Rearranging Stars
by ziggystargirl
Summary: Sarah and Jareth have developed a tentative friendship and Jareth regularly haunts Sarah's apartment in New York. A throwaway comment from Sarah results in a new bargain being struck for seemingly less threatening stakes than last time. Bickering, visitors of the goblin variety, confessions, and a vacation ensue. J/S. Unfortunately, I don't own Labyrinth or David Bowie.
1. Chapter 1 - A New Game

Disclaimer - Labyrinth isn't mine. I just borrow the characters and make them dance to my tune.

Chapter 1 – A New Game

"It's weird living in New York. Have you noticed there are no stars?"

The Goblin King looked up from the paper he had been flicking aimlessly through and raised an elegantly arched eyebrow.

"They're still there, silly girl. There is merely too much light pollution in this godforsaken city for them to be noticeable to human eyes."

Sarah turned from her positon by the window and glared at him, stung. Her eyes of green fire flashed at the sight of him reclining regally on her sofa, high heeled boots resting on her coffee table. The drama of his outfit (today, a crimson poet shirt and the impossibly tight pants she had learned to accept as his trademark) clashed considerably with the mundanity of her cheap, faux leather sofa purchased at the local thrift store. As unwilling as she was to admit it, he certainly added a certain flair to the otherwise underwhelming apartment she had begun to call home.

"I _know_ that, thanks," she muttered, stung. "I'm homesick, not an imbecile."

"Then desist from making such inane observations. If you loathe residing in New York so very much," Jareth replied, his tone positively dripping with distaste, "then perhaps you should have refrained from leaving your childhood home at the very first opportunity you came across. As I remember, there was a time you were not so very pleased at your circumstances. I do believe the words 'I hate this house' were uttered on numerous occasions."

Despite her brewing anger, Sarah gave the Goblin King a saccharine smile, knowing it would infuriate him.

"That is so sweet, Jareth. Do you remember everything I say?"

Jareth rolled his mismatched eyes, but swallowed his retort. He did so enjoy the way those lips formed to say his name, the teasing lilt that the years of visitations and tentative friendship had allowed.

"And really, if it's such a chore," she continued triumphantly, "I really wouldn't want to subject you to my 'inane observations' for a moment longer. Not when I know the kind of witty repartee waiting Underground for you. The Goblins really do have such a sparkling wit, and don't even get me started on the Chickens –-" 

Quick as a flash, Jareth was beside her, so close his feathery blonde hair was tickling the back of her neck. Sarah shivered. Jareth saw and smirked smugly, his velvet voice filtering into her ear.

"Really, precious thing," he murmured, "so sensitive. I can give you my word that you are much more charmingly verbose than the chickens and that your company is infinitely preferred. Even if you do complain even more than your dear vertically challenged Hogbrain."

"Hoggle," corrected Sarah, automatically.

"Mm, yes," replied Jareth, agreeably. Sarah supressed another shiver as hot breath caressed her neck. "Besides, if the apparent absence of the stars offends you so, something could perhaps be done."

At this, she turned to face him, incredulous. She forced a lightness into her tone that she did not feel, attempting to mimic their usual easy teasing that they had slowly developed since she had called him to her two years ago on her 18th Birthday.

"I thought," she said slowly, "that you moved the stars for no-one?"

His gaze bored into her and Sarah, mesmerised, could not look away from those mismatched, crystalline eyes. She looked at his face, studying him, trying to gage his emotion. There was an odd expression on his otherworldly face. A touch of bitterness, and…something else. Longing? Surely not. Since they had been reunited, he hadn't even tried to kiss her. Sarah told herself resolutely that this did not bother her. A small part of her quietly acknowledged that she was a dirty rotten liar.

After a moment, the intensity of his expression was replaced by his usual mask of indifference. A smirk developed, giving his eyes a familiar glint of mischief.

"Really Sarah," he said mockingly, "that is perfectly adorable. Do you remember everything I say?"

Sarah gulped, very aware of the proximity between herself and the Goblin King and feeling like a particularly tasty mouse that had been taunting a lion.

"Only the stuff you say to me in terrifying rooms where gravity ceases to exist."

He chuckled, a deep throaty sound. They were so close she could feel the vibration the sound made in his chest. She usually enjoyed making Jareth laugh. This felt different. Dangerous, and worryingly enjoyable.

"On your count, Sarah," he murmured silkily, "I may be able to make an exception."

She melted.

"If you do something for me first, naturally."

She solidified. Of course Jareth wouldn't do something for nothing. It was not in his nature.

"You know what?" she muttered, "I think I'm good. I'm pleased with the starless sky. I really don't have too many baby brothers left to barter."

He pouted, the wolfish look in his eyes looking incongruous with the mock petulance of his expression.

"But you haven't even heard what I would ask of you," he replied, his tone filling with an affected level of hurt.

"It's not going to be anything good."

"Ah, so narrow minded. You do so distrust me, even after all these years. So cruel."

"Yeah, I have such unwarranted trust issues. I mean it's not like you've ever drugged me, stalked me in owl form, sent the Cleaners after me or stolen my baby brother."

Jareth grimaced briefly. "Details, Precious thing, details! Besides, I didn't steal dear Toby. _You,_ in a fit of selfish adolescent fury wished him to me, and I _generously_ complied."

Sarah opened her mouth furiously but was shocked when a gloved hand covered it.

"And this brings me nicely to my offer. I will gladly rearrange the stars to your liking in this abysmally unimpressive sky, if you agree to play a little game with me."

Sarah looked at him, dubious.

"What sort of game?" she asked warily. 

"Oh really Sarah, you do look so suspicious. I am wounded." He placed an elegant hand on his chest as if in pain to further illustrate his point.

When she did not respond, Jareth sighed as if robbed of some particularly enjoyable entertainment.

"Merely a game of truth."

"Why?"

"I am a curious creature."

"Couldn't we just play Scrabble?" she asked hopefully.

"Really Sarah, I ask for so little."

"No," she replied softly after a moment.

He paused, and something akin to a genuine sadness darkened his eyes.

Something inside Sarah wavered.

"Please?" he murmured, so quietly she almost thought she had imagined it.

Sarah's last shred of resolve, after a courageous attempt, withered and died. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Okay, Okay. Fine. If it means that much to you, I guess…I guess we can play."

Jareth grinned a dangerous grin and Sarah could not help wonder if she had made a grave error. 'What's said is said,' she thought to herself wryly. No turning back now. The game was on.


	2. Chapter 2 - Ground Rules

**A/N** – _Thanks so much for your reviews Blue, Comical Freaka and MsSadie and Honoria Granger! This is my first piece of fanfiction so your reviews are very much appreciated and inspired me to fire out this next chapter!_

 _Again, to my complete distress, I own neither Labyrinth nor David Bowie._

 **Chapter Two – Ground Rules**

Ten minutes later, Sarah had been steered onto the sofa with Jareth standing smugly above her, head tilted, quite clearly ready for battle.

Sarah gulped. "Right," she said, attempting desperately to regain some control within the exchange. "If we're going to play this, we need to set some ground rules."

Jareth raised an upswept eyebrow, an unconvincing expression of innocence pasted onto his bold, sharply angled face. "Naturally. And what sort of 'ground rules' would you have in mind?"

"First of all, you can only ask me ten questions. And there are to be no ramifications for any of my answers. Also, this is a two-way street. I get to ask _you_ questions too. And I don't have to answer any of your questions if they're too…" she floundered while looking for a word that would not make the Goblin King guffaw with its implied carnal possibilities – " _personal._ "

Jareth smiled. It was, Sarah couldn't help but notice, a very pointy and rather seductive sort of smile and momentarily she wondered if those carnal possibilities would be so very unappealing.

"I have considered your demands," Jareth stated, regally. "And I find them most… _unfair."_

Sarah rolled her eyes at the obvious jibe. Really. She hadn't said anything was "not fair" in front of Jareth in years.

Jareth continued, disregarding Sarah's obvious annoyance. "I feel that they require some amendment. Though I am curious as to what…'ramifications' you are so desperate to prevent. Please do clarify."

Sarah blushed. The Goblin King grinned a grin of pure royal arrogance.

"Fine." Sarah bit out, refusing to be beaten. "Amend away. I'm under absolutely no obligation to play your little game anyway."

Jareth's eyes flashed before his usual blasé look of indifference again took dominance over his features.

"Now, now precious thing," he murmured quietly. His face dipped lower, a hare's breath from Sarah's upturned one. She could feel his hot breath upon her cheek. She refused to be distracted. His voice became lower. She could smell his heady fragrance of leather and warm spice. Sarah resisted the urge to close her eyes and to allow the baritone of his velvet voice wash over her.

"I think you are well aware that that is simply not true. After all, what's said is said. You agreed to play my 'little game' and so play it we shall. I will _generously_ allow you to ask me questions if, and only if, I feel that you have answered the question I posed to you in full truthfulness. And trust me Sarah, I will know if you have lied to me."

She believed him.

"Your stipulation that there will be no, shall we say, 'backlash' from this little game, I will take to mean that you wish to cause no harm to any of your friends within the Labyrinth due to any truths regarding your time there that might…antagonise me. I am willing to give you my word that no punishment will be inflicted upon your merry band of imbeciles despite the fact that they took it upon themselves to defy me and aid you through the Labyrinth."

"As for your concern that my questions will be too personal," and at this a predatory glint lighted his mismatched eyes, "why ever did you think I wanted to play this game in the first place?"

Sarah's heart thudded. Was this game of truth or dare Jareth's attempt to seduce her? Or merely an overblown chance to tease her? He certainly never did anything by halves.

"However," he continued, seemingly oblivious to the cardiovascular acrobatics taking place within Sarah's chest, "as usual in my dealings with you, I am prepared to be the soul of generosity. I will agree that out of the ten questions I will pose to you, you can forfeit one of them. Upon this eventuality, I will give you a challenge. This challenge you absolutely must perform."

"What if I refuse the challenge?"

Jareth considered her with interest for a moment, eyes narrowing. He studied her as though she were a particularly interesting puzzle he would greatly enjoy solving. Sarah tried hard not to squirm under his unapologetic scrutiny.

After a moment he grinned lazily, sharp teeth glinting.

"You won't."

It was a threat and a promise rolled into one.

Sarah internally shuddered. This Jareth was different to the one she had come to know. She had always known he was calculating, but this carnation of him was almost…villainous. A side of him she had not seen since she had run the Labyrinth. A small part of her recognised she had almost missed it.

And she truly had become used to him. She had grown to enjoy his humour, his constant sarcasm, his warm arrogance. A niggle inside of her worried that this game that did not particularly feel like a game was coming dangerously close to rocking the boat of their already explosive friendship.

 _But has friendship ever been what you've really wanted from him?_ A traitorous voice inside her asked. She had wanted a villain, an opponent, an antagonist…their relationship had grown as she had, and had eventually metamorphosed into what they had now. Which was…what, exactly? _Only one way to find out,_ she thought to herself grimly.

"Fine," she said, sounding braver than she felt.

The Goblin King grinned an unnervingly triumphant grin.

"And you can lose the creepy grin too. I'm _indulging_ you. I'm really not too invested in this."

Jareth rolled his eyes, but under Sarah's stern gaze toned down the grin to a smirk so that he merely looked smug rather than victorious.

"In that case," he purred, "many thanks for your forbearance."

Sarah gulped.

"Really Jareth," she rallied valiantly, unconsciously mimicking his mocking tone, "so childish. A game of truth or dare is a pretty odd choice. Who knew you were such a teenager at heart. Have you secretly been doodling my name all over your diary?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow but his expression remained serene. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"This game isn't childish the way I play it, precious."

Sarah could not suppress a shiver this time. Jareth turned sharply and moved to gaze out of the window, looking out at the New York skyline.

"Fighting talk Sarah Williams. I think I will go first."

Sarah drummed her fingers nervously on her coffee table.

Still gazing out of the window with his back to her, Jareth asked in a detached, metallic voice: "Why did you call me to you two years after you had left the Labyrinth?"

 _Wow_ , thought Sarah, in a state of shock. He was starting with the easy stuff then, clearly.

"Wouldn't you rather know what my favourite colour is?"

"It's red. And answer the question. You are more than welcome to ask me what my favourite colour is when it is your turn, however. Or do you wish to forfeit? I really have thought of such an _interesting_ challenge…"

"Well…I guess…I mean…" She was struggling.

"Eloquent as ever," murmured the Goblin King wryly.

Sarah aimed a vicious glare at the back of his platinum blonde head.

"Listen, Blondie, you'll get your answer a lot faster without all your biting witticisms."

Jareth inclined his head in impatient acceptance.

Sarah inhaled, trying to work out how exactly to express the inner turmoil his question had triggered within her.

"I suppose I felt that I had everyone I needed from the Labyrinth."

Jareth noticeably stiffened.

"But then eventually…it still wasn't enough. Don't get me wrong, I love them. I know how selfish this sounds. All of them. I love Hoggle, and Sir Didymus and Ludo…hell, I've even gotten sort of fond of the Goblins, even if I do wish they'd stop stealing my shoes. But…I grew up a little. I realised that even though they all care about me and that they'll always be there for me…they can't understand that I'm a flawed person. They're so selfless and kind and…pure. They're candid and completely uncomplicated. But me, I'm a complicated person. And I just…I came to realise that you got that. That you always had. So I realised I needed you just as much as I needed them. Maybe that I needed you even more. So I called. And you answered. And that's the honest, embarrassingly ego-centric truth of it."

Jareth was silent, and Sarah was unsettled. She had expected mockery, for him to point out her selfishness – even for him to gloat. None of the expected reactions were forthcoming.

"You know," she continued, desperate to break the silence which was becoming increasingly oppressive, "it took me ages to work up the courage to call. But I thought my birthday would be a good a time as any if you were ever inclined to answer. I'm surprised you didn't ask me why I'd called when you first came." She smiled ironically. "I was grateful though."

After another moment of silence, she could bear it no longer. She walked to the window and touched Jareth's shoulder ever so lightly. He turned, and the emotion in his eyes made her heart feel like it was being squeezed. He was giving her a look filled with something so raw and something so hungry that her arm fell listlessly by her side.

And then Jareth's expression shuttered, the façade of indifference returning. He smiled a wolfish smile.

"I thank you for your honesty, precious. Perhaps I might even indulge in a little sincerity, just this once. Your turn."

 _Reviews are hugely appreciated! X_


	3. Chapter 3 - A Little Help From Cosmo

A/N – _I still don't own Labyrinth, nor a Bog of Eternal Stench, nor an apartment in a New York. I do, however, own last December's issue of Cosmo. I truly am a lucky girl._

 _Thank you so much for all of your reviews! They were all incredibly lovely and very constructive! Your reviews honestly keep me writing._

Sarah considered him for a moment, mouth pursed and mind whirring furiously. He had obviously purposely wrong footed her by asking a deeply intimate and personal question straight off the bat. He would probably expect her to fire back an equally meaningful inquiry in retaliation.

But did she really want to? Sure, the things she _wanted_ to know about Jareth could probably fill a few Bogs of Eternal Stench. The tenuous friendship that they had developed over the years was founded upon easy companionship, sarcasm and merciless teasing rather than cosy heart to hearts. If the jokey repartee that they shared sometimes felt as though it was bordering on flirtatious then that was another matter, but it really wasn't as though they regularly shared profound facts about their lives and innermost feelings with one another. Things had gotten intense enough during the climax of her run in the labyrinth. _No_ , thought Sarah, _better to surprise him. Ask him something inane. Something he wouldn't expect you to ask._ _Bide your time._

She recognised that this game really did have the potential to be a massively helpful insight into the mercurial Goblin King's personality, and an opportunity for her to peel back the caustic, glittery veneer. She sometimes felt that they both used humour as an armour to avoid the bitter stabs of the accusations and recriminations that remained unspoken reproaches due to their less than pleasant confrontation the last time she had been Underground. And she did still have nine questions to use to get more of a personal look into Jareth's psyche. Might as well have some fun with his royal pain in the ass first. Besides, Jareth could be as petty as he was pretty. If he became frustrated at her apparent lack of interest in the more profound aspects of his personage he might ask her less uncomfortable questions. Questions whose answers were less likely to provoke expressions in the Goblin King that made her feel like maybe she really did have cruel, cruel eyes. Her favourite type of takeout, for instance.

Sarah caught sight of a copy of Cosmo which had fallen off the coffee table. Deciding that Jareth must have knocked it off earlier in order to rest his weary Goblin kicking feet and not bothered to retrieve it, Sarah rolled her eyes internally. Between him and the Goblins, her apartment was in a constant state of disarray. Living with the Goblins for centuries obviously hadn't instilled Jareth with much of an appreciation for pristine living areas. Though at least Jareth usually only left a trail of glitter. The Goblins were capable of worse, as she had found out when she had returned home one day to find something which looked scarily akin to a frat party going on in her living room. She still swore to this day pungent odour of Goblin Ale was fused permanently into the aroma of whole house. She bent down to retrieve the magazine, noticing that it had fallen open upon the Horoscopes page. Unbeknownst to Sarah, Jareth was enjoying the view, his head tilted appreciatively. Quick as a flash, Sarah straightened, leaving the magazine abandoned on the floor. Brilliance had struck.

Her insides danced a smug little dance. Oh, annoying Jareth was _fun_.

"I've got my first question, Jareth."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and tried to look bored. If Sarah hadn't spotted a muscle twitch in his cheek she could have sworn he was completely uninterested.

"Please, astonish me with your investigational prowess."

She paused for dramatic effect.

"I want you to tell me what your star sign is."

To Sarah's delight, Jareth went very, very still. Oh boy was he _mad._

"…that is your insightful question?" His tone was dangerously bland.

"You are playing a game of truth with the Sovereign of the Goblin Kingdom, Master of the Labyrinth, an immortal and a fae of the Seelie Court, privy to knowledge mortals can only dream of…and you," he spoke slowly now, drawing the words out until they were positively dripping with disdain, "wish to know what my astrological sign is?"

"You can always forfeit if it offends you that much," said Sarah helpfully, biting back a grin. She really was beginning to enjoy this game immensely.

The Goblin King glared at her.

"That will not be necessary," he said stiffly. "I was born on the 25th of July."

"Ah, you're a Leo. That explains _everything."  
_

Jareth continued to glare, his lips slightly pouted, the image of a petulant child. Sarah was struck by his sudden resemblance to a younger Toby in the throes of a temper tantrum, and reflected idly that if looks could kill, she'd have died at the King's leather gloved hands a couple of hundred times.

"I cannot believe," he bit out eventually, "that you would ask me such a moronic question. I could have had a more entertaining time playing this game with one of the more charismatic chickens."

Sarah stuck out her lower lip, injecting a dangerously provocative amount of mocking pity into her tone. What was it about Jareth that made her get so carried away?

"Aw, poor Jareth. Are you just being mean because you're upset that I missed your birthday? It's not too late for me to bake a cake, you know."

"You truly are the most immensely irritating women I have ever had the misfortune to come across. And I have sampled your cooking. A celebratory cake made by your hands would certainly make for a particularly _unhappy_ birthday."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "You're the one that has an ego so large that it deserves its own eco system. I can't believe that I _generously_ let you off the hook with such an easy first question when you gave me such a horrible one and you're just offended that I didn't ask you something more profound with more opportunity for 'sincerity'. One day we'll have a conversation about your greatest achievements or something, will that satisfy your philosophical old soul?"

To Sarah's surprise, Jareth suddenly brightened considerably at her words. He leaned close, until he and Sarah were practically nose to nose.

"Oh _Sarah_ ," he murmured silkily, his hot breath tickling her ear. " _Sarah, Sarah, Sarah._ How transparent. I do believe that you are trying to provoke me into _wasting_ my questions on ones as inane as the one you have posed to me in a childish act of spite."

Sarah resisted the urge to retreat, despite every instinct telling her that the dangerously predatory look in the Goblin King's asymmetric eyes meant nothing good for her at all.

To Sarah's surprise, The Goblin King trailed a leather clad hand gently, lightly as a fairy's wing, down her cheek. He moved his head even closer and for one mad, magical moment Sarah thought he was going to kiss her.

She shut her eyes.

"Nice try, Precious thing," Jareth murmured, his lips brushing against her earlobe. "I do believe it's my turn."

Sarah's eyes snapped open, and she had to suppress an intake of breath at her embarrassment regarding her reaction to their alarming proximity.

She should have remembered.

He never did play fair.

 _Reviews, as always are very much appreciated!_

 _P.S: No offence meant to any Leo's, though in my experience you are all drama queens (or kings!)_


	4. Chapter 4 - Dinner Date

_A/N – I know I keep saying it, but I am so grateful for your reviews! This chapter is 3x as long as any I've written before and I definitely wouldn't have written it today if I hadn't been inspired by your feedback! As ever, Labyrinth isn't mine. I don't have a genie either._

 _p.s Be warned, there are a couple of innuendos in this one. Isn't Jareth a cheeky chap?_

"Jareth. I'm _hungry._ I haven't eaten since like, 12pm. I can't deal with you on an empty stomach as it is, and I definitely can't cope if you're going to be firing questions at me while I'm practically wasting away. I need food."

Jareth smirked, amused. He allowed his gaze to travel lazily down in order to assess Sarah fully, from the tips of her bare feet to the top of her shining dark head. Slim she might be. Wasting away, thankfully, she was not.

He tilted his head, and spoke silkily. "As ever, dear Sarah, your wish is my command."

Sarah tried very, very hard not to blush. God he was lecherous. She gave him her best death stare. Whilst Sarah Williams' death stare would have turned more fragile, less glittery beings into quivering wrecks, the Goblin King merely grinned a pointy grin, completely and utterly unrepentant.

"I swear you have genie fantasies or something," she muttered mutinously. "Running round granting wishes."

Jareth raised an eyebrow. The grin transformed into a smirk bordering on obscene. "And you never have rubbed my lamp."

Well. This was a whole new level of light-hearted banter. Damn him and his smug, sexy smirk.

Sarah tried desperately to think of something aside from being placed in a coma which would help banish the image of Jareth abandoning his perilously tight trousers in favour of a bare chest and Aladdin style genie pants. She failed.

She settled on rolling her eyes, a little lost for words. In a brave attempt to cover her befuddlement at the fairly disconcerting, if not entirely unattractive mental picture her traitorous imagination had conjured she said, a little shakily;

"But…you aren't going to cook are you? And don't you even dare turn one of those crystals into a Cheeseburger. You complain about my cooking, but I still remember the last time you gave me food."

"Precious, it was _one_ drugged peach."

"It had a _worm_ in it."

He continued as if she had not spoken.

"Besides," he said placidly, "I am neither going to produce a 'cheeseburger', nor attempt to navigate your perilously small kitchen. There's far too much iron in your mortal cooking apparatus anyway."

 _Ah,_ thought Sarah, _she had forgotten the whole ages old fairytale king thing again._

"No, Sarah, you and I are going to go out to dinner."

Sarah raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. Normally they just hung out around the apartment. Or rather, Jareth hung around, reclining regally whilst she tried to achieve something constructive. Due to his really rather distracting presence, however, she rarely managed it. Occasionally, if Jareth was wearing one of his less ostentatious outfits they went to the park and Jareth would read some very long boring novel to her while she pretended to listen.

But that was in the _daytime_. This proposed night-time outing, paired with the Goblin King presenting his newly developed talent for innuendo this whole situation suddenly seemed somehow much more...date-esque.

But she was hungry. So she was going to go with it.

Jareth cocked his head, his brows furrowed questioningly. To Sarah's embarrassment, she realised she had been silent for the past few moments, mouth slightly ajar. She hastily shut her mouth. "Right. Fine. Let's go. I just need to grab some bits before we go and get changed-"

The Goblin King cut her off. "Absolutely not. I will not sit idly by and watch you 'waste away' for a moment longer. We must leave at once before you are reduced to a mere skeleton." 

Sarah would have argued, but her stomach chose to defy her, as right at that moment it growled and embarrassingly loud growl.

The Goblin King inclined his head in acknowledgement of his victory.

"Fine," muttered Sarah. "But where are we even going? There's a pizza place down the next street but I don't know if you'll like it. You made enough fuss that time I ordered Chinese."

"No need to find out, precious thing," said Jareth contentedly. "Upon my traversing around this city in owl form I have spied an excellent looking establishment. I imagine it will do nicely."

Sarah nodded, too hungry to voice her doubts about what constituted an excellent looking establishment to a man that presumably dined with Goblins.

Jareth held out his arm expectantly.

Sarah took it, and braced herself for the sense of nausea that accompanied teleporting with Jareth. She still hadn't quite got used to it. One horrendous moment and a shower of glitter later, they had arrived.

Sarah turned to inspect the restaurant. She was, she had to admit, reluctantly impressed. It looked pretty fancy. She looked down ruefully at her fairly casual jeans and jumper combination. Damn Jareth. For a man who loved wardrobe changes, he sure as hell hadn't been patient enough to let her dress up a bit. She really hoped this place didn't have a dress code.

They walked in and were seated in a corner quickly by a snooty looking waiter who, upon hearing Jareth's cultured voice, underwent some sort of transformation and was instantaneously exceedingly polite.

Sarah looked around at the restaurant. It was sleek and modern looking, an odd choice for Jareth and much more extravagant than she was used to. Living on a struggling actress' budget in New York didn't really allow for much sophistication.

A pretty, fair haired waitress minced to their table, a too-bright smile plastered upon her face. Then, she took one look at Jareth and stood for a moment agape.

Jareth smiled indulgently, feeling that shocked adoration was really no more than his due.

Sarah resisted the urge to glare at her.

After a moment, the waitress recovered herself somewhat.

"Hi there," she said breathily, still staring at Jareth. "Welcome to _Mystère_. Can I get you some menus?"

"That will not be necessary," said the Goblin King regally. "We will have two steaks, well done and accompanied by a bottle of your finest champagne."

The waitress's cornflower blue eyes widened. So he wasn't only gorgeous, but _rich_ too. Boy did she need to find a subtle way of slipping him her number before the evening was out. Though by the way his girlfriend was staring at her she clearly was the jealous type. Subtlety would have to be the key.

"Excellent choice, Sir!" She fawned. "Excellent. I'll be right back with your drinks!"

Sarah was less complementary.

"I can't believe you just ordered for me! I hate it when guys do that. You are such a self-important douche."

"Oh, do be quiet. Sarah, I know what you like. Just try to enjoy it. You should take a leaf out of that delightful serving woman's book. She was refreshingly _pleasant_. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be around a female that doesn't speak sarcasm as a first language. "

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh please. She just things you're going to give her a big tip."

Jareth looked quizzical for a moment and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the waitress had returned with two champagne flutes and an impressively fancy looking bottle.

"Would you like to try it first, sir?" she asked Jareth, batting her eyelashes. "To make sure it's to your liking?"

Sarah mimed puking behind the waitress' back. Jareth smirked. He raised an upswept eyebrow.

"Sarah, you taste it. This evening is all about _you_ after all."

Sarah squirmed under the sudden intensity of his gaze. Unwillingly, the waitress turned and gave Sarah a decidedly less friendly look than the one she had given Jareth. Nonetheless, she filled the delicate champagne flute with a small amount of the bubbling liquid and passed it to Sarah.

"Here we are, Madame," she murmured stiffly, passing Sarah the glass.

Sarah tasted it. It was _delightful._ It was smooth and bubbly, and felt like a hug for her insides.

"Mmm," she said trying to sound as sophisticated as possible though the bubbles had just gone up her nose a little. "It's lovely, thank you."

The waitress bustled off, adding an extra sway into her walk for Jareth's benefit. It was wasted on him.

He was still watching Sarah intently.

"Enjoying it?" He enquired innocently.

"Hmmm," Sarah murmured noncommittally. "I guess."

Jareth grinned, seeing straight through her indifferent act.

She grinned back, suddenly feeling inordinately relaxed. Probably because of the champagne.

"Are you trying to get me drunk before you ask me your next question?"

Jareth chucked, a deep throaty sound that made Sarah shiver despite the warm temperature within the restaurant.

"Hmm," he mimicked, putting on a high-pitched voice, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I guess…"

She laughed. "Is it really that bad?"

He considered her for a moment, then smiled.

"No," he said, "I don't think so. I'm going to wait until you aren't expecting it to pose it to you, however. You are much more forthcoming when I take you by surprise."

Sarah raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. They chatted easily, regaining the easy rapport they had enjoyed before the game of truths had begun.

After a short while, the steaks arrived. Sarah loved steak and was at this point so hungry she felt no hesitation in tucking in, stuffing the biggest bite humanly possible into her mouth.

Jareth watched her, amused.

After several such bites, Jareth leaned forward.

"Sarah," he said suddenly, speaking quietly and fast. "In your last answer, you told me that I am able to understand facets of your personality that the other beings you met in the Labyrinth are unable to comprehend. However, whenever I ask you something serious, you brush it off. You confide in, still, the dwarf, to Didymus, and even to the rock loving brute. But never to me, despite the fact that we have become close in these last two years. Why?"

Sarah coughed, practically choking on the large piece of stake she had been devouring.

Jareth leaned back, some of the tension leaving his face.

"Chew, Sarah, chew."

She coughed again, eventually recovering enough to splutter a hasty; "that's your second question?"

Jareth nodded an affirmative.

 _Okay_. Thought Sarah. But with Jareth it was always safer to clarify.

She took another sip of champagne, trying to buy some time while she considered his question.

"Well…" she murmured eventually, "I suppose its pride, in a way."

Jareth looked at her closely. When she made no move to continue, he spoke.

"Elaborate."

Sarah drummed her fingers on the glass table, trying to find the words.

"I called you to me, don't forget. That was a pretty big admission of weakness. That was me saying, wait – I know I left, I know I denied you but…I need you. And then when you came, when you answered, I was so relieved. And you sort of saved me floundering, from having to say all the things that I should've said by saying something really sarcastic. I can't even remember what it was now… I was that shocked that you'd come. And then I managed to recover myself just enough to say something biting back and I guess I just...slipped into that routine of bravado, of jokes, to try and mask the fact that I'm so glad you answered me. And I've just…carried on." She managed a wry smile. "We're honestly pretty good at it."

"But surely Sarah, you must understand that my answering your call at all was an equally big 'admission.' I was under no obligation to do so."

She avoided his gaze.

"I know," she murmured. "I get that. But…it's hard. Remember when you asked me how I was enjoying the Labyrinth, and I said 'It's a piece of cake'? It's the same now, in a way. With you I sometimes feel like I need to keep my cards close to chest, to not show any weakness. I guess that's the way we've always been."

Jareth nodded, looking pensive.

They finished their meal in a surprisingly non-awkward silence.

The simpering waitress placed the cheque on the table, all the while facing Jareth with her back to Sarah. When she finally walked away, she turned to cast one last yearning look back at Jareth.

Sarah was far too preoccupied with other thoughts to even shoot her a dirty look.

Both sat for a moment in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Well," said Jareth imperiously, obviously having regained his usual demeanour. "What are you waiting for? Winter Solstice? Let us leave this place."

Sarah did not laugh.

"…Jareth…I don't have my purse. You made us leave in such a hurry I forgot to grab it. It's back at the apartment on my bedside table. You'll have to get this one."

He paused.

"I can't," he muttered, mutinously.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that!" said Sarah, a false cheerfulness in her tone that signalled danger.

"I _said_ ," murmured Jareth angrily, "that I cannot simply 'get this one.'"

Sarah stared. Jareth was many, many things. He was flirtatious, sarcastic, beautiful, unpredictable, unapologetically immoral and occasionally villainous, but Sarah did not have him down as a tight wad.

"I…what?" Sarah spluttered indignantly. "But…this was _your_ idea!"

The Goblin King grimaced. "It appears that I got a little…carried away. I forgot that in the mortal realm positively everything requires payment."

Sarah looked at him.

"One day, Jareth, we're going to have a conversation about this ideology called Capitalism. It's where you exchange money for goods and services. It's gotten pretty big Aboveground. Honestly. You aren't King here, you know."

Jareth remained silent and pouted, avoiding her eyes and resolutely looking at the painting above her head.

Sarah was incensed.

"I cannot _believe_ you asked me out to dinner and forgot to bring any money. I literally cannot understand how you've been popping Above for centuries and yet carry absolutely no cash."

"Hm. Funny. Strangely, I have seemed to misplace my vast stash of US currency. Must have left it back at the castle and entrusted it to one of the Goblins."

"Hilarious. Well, you're just going to have to use what means you have. Get out your magic balls and make us some money."

There was a pained silence as Sarah considered the implications of that last sentence.

" _That,"_ she said slowly,"came out very, _very_ wrong."

"Are you suggesting," asked Jareth blandly, "that I become a gigolo in order to procure mortal currency to pay for this cuisine?"

"Though some of the outfits in your everyday rotation probably would make it through the career change, that's actually not what I had in mind. I was more thinking something along the lines of producing one of your crystals and conjuring up a small pile of US dollars which would mean that we can get the hell _out of this place_."

Jareth's expression remained grim. "An excellent proposal. But it cannot be done."

"Because it's against the constitution or something? Jareth, why the hell not?!"

"I am unfamiliar with its appearance. I cannot replicate that which I am not familiar with."

Understanding what it cost Jareth's ego to admit that he couldn't do something, Sarah decided to be generous.

"Well. In that case…there's no other option. We're going to have to do a Dine 'n' Dash."

Jareth paused, his mouth pursed in a thin line. Sarah knew he hated it when she knew something he didn't. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy his thinly veiled irritation. She deserved it.

She waited patiently.

Eventually, Jareth had to concede defeat.

"And what, pray tell, is a Dine 'n' Dash?"

She gave him a magnanimous smile.

"A dine 'n' dash, Jareth, is where you leave a restaurant without paying. So, if I were with anyone else, we'd have to sneak out and then run like hell until we got home. But, luckily for me, I'm with you. So all we have to do is sneak out of here, run like hell around the corner until no-one can see us, and then you zap us both back to my apartment. Sound good?"

"That," said Jareth slowly, "sounds perfectly acceptable. I will distract that delightful serving woman whilst you wait for me outside. Then, unbeknownst to any of our fellow diners or servants, I will gracefully depart also."

"Yeah, okay," said Sarah impatiently. Just don't take too long distracting the 'servants' otherwise they're going to notice I've gone."

Jareth leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation and confidence.

"Please do calm down, precious. All is in hand."

Spotting the blonde waitress, Jareth flashed her his most charming smile and waved her over with an elegant motion. She walked towards him, transfixed.

"Right," Sarah muttered to him. "I'll be outside. _Hurry up._ "

Then, just loud enough for the waitress to hear, Sarah spoke.

"Alright, darling, I'm just going to use the restroom."

 _Darling_ , she thought, a little stunned. _Where had that come from?_

She walked away from the table, but instead of taking the stairs leading up to the restrooms simply carried on walking until she was right out of the door and was waiting in the busy street outside.

She shivered, leaning against a wall to avoid banging into passers-by and hoped silently that Jareth would hurry the hell up. She was stuffed and feeling a little heady from the champagne. She needed a rest before she could think of a reasonably interesting question to pose to him.

At that moment, Jareth bolted out of the restaurant, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

"HEY!" yelled the waiter that had shown them to their table. "Come back here!"

Jareth nodded at Sarah pleasantly. "Now," he said conversationally as though they were discussing the weather, "would be an excellent time to run."

 _Well._ Thought Sarah. _Come on feet_.

They bolted. Jareth grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her along the New York streets, and propelled her past stunned passers-by.

After they had run behind an empty building and Sarah was confident that they were quite alone and no longer being pursued by angry waiting staff, she collapsed against the cold brick wall. To her own surprise, she began to laugh. She laughed so hard she was doubled over. After a moment of utter disbelief, Jareth joined in.

He recovered himself before she did, and when she straightened there were still tears of mirth in her eyes. He considered her for a moment, an odd, almost wistful look in his mismatched eyes.

Before he could stop himself, he had indulged in a little sincerity.

"You truly are beautiful when you laugh."

The statement sobered Sarah up fast.

He held out his arm, not waiting for a reply.

"Come," he said huskily. "Let us return. I do believe it's your go."

 _I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are massively appreciated! X_


	5. Chapter 5 - We Need To Talk About Hoggle

_A/N – Chapter 5 is here! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for the reviews, they help/encourage me so much! Glittery hugs to all who left them. As ever, none of these characters are mine, I just borrow them._

Chapter 5 – We Need To Talk About Hoggle

They were back in the apartment. Feeling sluggish from the heavy meal, Sarah was lounging on the sofa, laying on one side in order to comfortably keep an eye on the Goblin King.

The aforementioned king was planted on Sarah's wooden floor, busily flicking through one of Sarah's photo albums. Every now and then he would let out a low chuckle, smile a wolfish smile, or even more disconcertingly, scowl.

When Jareth directed a scowl so vicious it would have sent the dimmest Goblin running in fear of a bogging at one photograph he clearly found particularly offensive, Sarah decided to intervene.

"Jareth, why are you looking at one of my pictures like it introduced a tax on glitter?"

Jareth looked up at her, scowl hastily wiped.

"I was doing no such thing," he protested innocently.

"Um, yes you were. I saw you. You keep making weird faces."

"I can assure you, I was not. And there is nothing _weird_ , as you so elegantly put it, about my face."

"I really think you were. And that's debateable. I've seen you wearing peach lip gloss. Anyway, what are you even looking at?"

Sarah rolled clumsily off the sofa and moved to peer over Jareth's shoulder.

What she saw surprised her a little. The photograph that had provoked such disgust from Jareth showed her and her friend Daniel at a party last year. Daniel had his arm flung casually around Sarah's shoulders and she was looking up at him, laughing. Sarah smiled at it fondly. She missed him. She hadn't seen him for almost a year since he had moved Upstate to be closer to his boyfriend who was still in college.

She looked at Jareth, who was looking back at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Well, what's so horrible about that one?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Jareth looked irritated.

"Nothing," he said coldly.

"You look sort of pissed," said Sarah, truthfully.

"You are mistaken. I was merely looking through this book in order to stave off the boredom of waiting for you to think of your second question. You really are taking such a long time. One might almost think you were _nervous_."

Sarah rolled her eyes, refusing to take the bait.

"I've got my second question already, actually." It was true. She had thought of it a whole two seconds ago.

"Is that so?" murmured Jareth, trying to look disinterested. "Is it as thought provoking and insightful as the enquiry regarding my star sign?"

"I think so." Struck by a sudden inspiration, Sarah continued. "I've thought of another ground rule too, by the way."

Jareth raised his eyebrows. "Oh, goody," he muttered, tone dripping in sarcasm. "What is it now?"

"I want," said Sarah, "a way to know that you're telling the truth."

Jareth looked affronted.

"I have had no such way of ensuring your truthfulness to me."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but you can read my mind. You know all this stuff you ask me anyway, you just like hearing me make an ass out of myself."

Jareth looked shocked, his face slackening slightly. Briefly, he looked oddly pleased, but in the next moment he had schooled his expression into one of polite interest.

"Do you really think that, Sarah?" he asked, amusement colouring his tone.

"Yeah. I mean, you always know when I'm lying and then you do the thing with your eyebrows and I have to tell you the truth."

Jareth laughed. A rich, real, genuine laugh. Sarah savoured it.

"I promise that I cannot read your mind, Sarah. Unfortunately, you are a constant enigma to me. I also think your trust issues need a little work. However," and at this he performed a complicated motion with his long, leather gloved hands. _Show off_ , thought Sarah a little wistfully. He produced a crystal, holding out to her invitingly. Sarah was hit by a wave of deja-vu so forceful it made her feel a little nauseous. A familiar, silken voice first heard years ago filtered into her brain uninvited. ' _If you turn it this way, it will show you your dreams_.' She really, sincerely hoped not. She had been suffering from ( _or enjoying, said the snarky, honest voice inside her head)_ a few fairly X-rated dreams involving the very Goblin King sitting before her of late. Trying not to imagine how smug Jareth would look if he discovered this little detail, she attempted to tune into what he was saying and keep her face blank.

"I am nothing if not generous. I will provide you with this crystal for the duration of our game. If either of us lies, it will turn red. If we are abiding by the rules of the game and remaining honest, it will remain clear. Happy?"

 _Damn_. She hadn't counted on the lie detector being used against _her_. She forced a grin.

"As Larry," she replied in a sing song voice. "Right then, put the crystal down where I can see it."

Jareth gave her a mocking bow, but complied nonetheless.

He looked at her expectantly, head tilted and the offending photo album forgotten.

She paused in order to build a little atmosphere. It was, as her theatrical training had taught her, always necessary to build tension to keep your audience on the edge of their seats.

After what she felt had been a suitably dramatic pause she began, keeping her voice even.

"Okay then. My second question to you is this: why did you try to send Hoggle and me to the bog after he saved me and I kissed him?"

Jareth was silent. The look he was giving her was oddly calculating. Sarah's heart began to beat rather fast. She felt she had given too much away over dinner, been a little _too_ honest. She had just wanted him to give something back. But had she just misunderstood him completely, misread the signs?

The motivation behind the question was transparent. She was _so_ not cool right now.

Jareth eyed the crystal before them.

"I did not want you to reach the castle," he said carefully.

The crystal remained clear.

 _Typical Jareth._

"Right," said Sarah. "That's not really answering the question though, is it?"

He raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression carefully blank.

"Ever the slave driver, Sarah," he replied drily. He paused, considering.

"The dwarf committed an act of treason. He owed his allegiance to me."

Sarah cocked her head, unconsciously mirroring one of Jareth's mannerisms, waiting.

Jareth sighed.

"I gave him a fair warning. I told him that if you kissed him, he would become a prince. Prince of the Land of Stench!" Jareth laughed, clearly amused at the memory all over again.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Well," Jareth demanded, rolling his eyes. " _Laugh_."

"Jareth, you're about as funny as a Goblin Measles epidemic. For some reason you decided to try to hurl me and my friend down into a filthy stinking bog and I want to hear you say why."

"Friend, friend, friend," he said nastily, mimicking Sarah and adopting a high pitched tone. "Me and my delightful little friend Hogwart or Higgle or whatever the hell his name is. That word _again_. I did not want him to be your friend!" Jareth snapped. He shut his mouth quickly, his lips pressing into a thin line of displeasure. Whether his wrath was aimed at himself or at her, Sarah was unsure. When he spoke again his voice was cool, detatched.

"Hoggle Rathspurt was a selfish, greedy coward. I was sure he would lead you back to the beginning. He cared for no-one but himself and his tacky little trinkets. Under your influence he transformed utterly. He became your hero, companion…" at his next word Jareth's even tone filled with disgust. " _Friend._ " He did not deserve the title."

There was a pause while Sarah digested this.

"I'm not sure that that's for you to decide, Jareth," murmured Sarah quietly.

Jareth looked at her bitterly.

It was, and was not the answer that she had wanted.

She had wanted him to admit he had been jealous, and he had, in so many words. She hadn't expected the confession to make her heart feel so battered and bruised, like it was about to break.

She touched Jareth's arm, ever so gently. She leaned close to whisper in his ear, breathing in his heady scent of musk and leather and spice.

"I'm sorry, Jareth."

And she was. Not sorry for her friendship with Hoggle, which had brought her so much joy over the years, but sorry that she had not understood. Not understood that Jareth had wanted a chance to be the hero but had instead been relegated to the role of evil, child snatching villain. It was a part too constrictive for someone so complicated. He had more range.

Jareth, who had turned still as stone under her touch jerked away impatiently and walked to the window, casting a sullen look out at the New York skyline.

"I neither need nor want your pity," said Jareth coldly, still with his back to her.

Sarah sighed internally. She should have stuck to star signs. That's what she got for playing him at his own game.

A cold, frigid silence descended upon the apartment.

Sarah bit her nails awkwardly, the only noise being the tick of the clock and that of the traffic outside.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Jareth turned.

"Desist from that disgusting habit."

"Don't want to," muttered Sarah childishly.

"You truly are a vile girl."

The crystal flashed red.

Despite herself, Sarah grinned.

Jareth rolled his eyes, but something like the makings of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Sarah released a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, relieved. The tension had broken.

"Come on then, Goblin King," she said forcing a lightness into her tone that she did not feel. "Your turn. Lucky number 3. Hit me with it, I'm ready."

He considered her for a moment.

"I wish you to tell me your happiest memory."

She looked at him, stunned. This was not the retaliation she had expected.

"Urm…why?" she asked, a little suspiciously,

"My question," he stated condescendingly, "does not require a disclaimer. Answer it."

Jareth was just constantly surprising her today.

"Not like you to ask a question that has literally no relevance to you. I'm shocked."

Jareth was looking at her intently with those unworldly eyes.

"I truly am selfless creature."

The crystal turned red again.

"Damn that crystal," he muttered.

Sarah smirked.

"Well," he said impatiently. "Are you going to answer me or not? Or do you wish to forfeit?"

"Damn Jareth, hold your horses. That's a pretty deep question. Patience is a virtue, did no-one ever tell you that?"

"No. My father used to tell me that the only virtues worth having were a talent for immorality and a good shot."

Sarah laughed. A depraved part of her brain pondered the fact that, if his trousers were anything to go by, immorality and a good shot were not the only assets Jareth was blessed with.

Pushing this thought aside, she pondered his question. Her happiest memory. She had had plenty of happiness in her life. She was grateful for her family. For her father, even for Karen. Especially for Toby, who was now a rambunctious pre-schooler. She had even let go of the rejection of her now estranged mother, as much as a person can let that sort of thing go. She had friends outside the denizens of the Labyrinth, and had plenty of fun with them too. But her _happiest_ memory. One moment of pure, unadulterated joy. That was a tough one.

"I guess…" she said slowly, "I guess the closest I have to a happiest memory happened on the day of my ninth birthday. My mom and dad were still together, then. I'd been at school all morning, and then suddenly there's a knock on my classroom door. My teacher opens the door, and the receptionists there. She whispers something to my teacher, and then I get called out of class. Obviously, I'm totally non-plussed and crapping myself thinking of all the things I could've done wrong that I'm about to be punished for. But then, we get to reception and both my parents are there. My dad winks at me, and my mom's smiling. But she starts talking to the receptionist about how I need to go home 'cos I've got a dentist appointment. And my mom, as you know, is an actress. So she's really convincing. And I'm just confused to hell, thinking, what? Like, I know I don't have a dentist appointment. So anyway, we get out of school and I'm bummed out because I genuinely think I'm going to the dentist on my birthday. But then mum hugs me and dad grabs me and whirls me round and I'm thinking…wow, everyone is super happy that I need to go see Dr Kelly. So I ask mom why she's so pleased and she announces that we're going to Disneyland – that's this theme park, with rides and people dressed up and stuff - and they wanted to surprise me. Obviously, I'm ecstatic. So we went. Drove off in the car and we were blasting music and singing along to all these cheesy pop songs. And so we actually go to Disneyland, on a Tuesday when I was meant to be in double Math. I had the best day. We were all so happy. It was perfect.

Jareth looked at her, and Sarah was struck by the fondness in his eyes.

"What?" she muttered, abashed.

"I am…surprised."

She looked at him. "You are?"

"I thought you would tell me that it was when you successfully retrieved Toby and threw your charming little victory soiree."

She shifted, uncomfortable.

"That wasn't happiness. That was relief."

Jareth arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Abruptly, he spoke.

"The hour is late. You must be tired. I will return in the morning for your next question."

"No!" exclaimed Sarah, without thinking. Jareth's eyebrows rose even further up his head.

"I mean," Sarah blushed, embarrassed. "You don't have to go. You can sleep on the sofa, if you want. If you can't face going back to the goblins yet."

Jareth eyed her, an odd look in his eyes.

He paused.

"I do not think I will, Sarah," he murmured, uncharacteristically gently. "But I will not forget the invitation."

Swiftly and unexpectedly, Jareth bent down to kiss her cheek. With a swirl of glitter and a strong breeze, he was gone.

Sarah touched the place he had kissed her, shell shocked.

She would not sleep tonight.

 _A/N – Please tell me what you thought you lovely readers!_


	6. Chapter 6 - The Sacrificial Sofa

_A/N. As ever, I am incredibly grateful for the reviews. They are very insightful, and usually better than what I actually write. Thankyou._

 _Again, Jareth, Sarah and Labyrinth aren't mine. I am however, the proud creator of Graham. Lucky me._

Chapter 6 – The Sacrificial Sofa

Sarah spooned instant coffee into a mug, yawning. The mug declared in garish, neon letters that she was ' _Word's Best Sister!_ ' Toby had bought it, or rather it had been bought on Toby's behalf, as a gift for her one Christmas. Kind of ironic considering that her favourite house guest had once threatened to turn him into a goblin. But she guessed that the more truthful tagline ' _World's Best Half-Sister That Wished Me Away to a Sparkly, Singing and Dancing Goblin King!_ ' probably wouldn't have fit.

She had tossed and turned all night, replaying the events of the evening, particularly Jareth's departure. She was no closer to having come up with her third question for Jareth than she was to understanding how his feathery blonde hair constantly defied the constraints of gravity with its enviable height and volume. She pushed her own dark hair back from her face and sighed. Why had she ever agreed to play this goddamn game? Oh yeah, because she was a naïve idiot that had been charmed when Jareth had said a word she had thought was alien to him – "please." She felt sure that her fifteen year old self wouldn't have been such a soft touch. She was clearly mellowing with age.

She heard a rustle behind her. She whirled around just in time to see a potted plant over turn, spilling soil over the wooden floor. There was a pause, and after a moment a frenzied babbling ensued.

Oh joy of joys, the Goblins had arrived for her morning wakeup call.

A single Goblin Head popped around the side of the legs of her small dining table.

"Hi Sarah lady!" exclaimed the Goblin With The Tusks.

 _Well_ , thought Sarah drily. At least they didn't call her ' _The_ _Girl Who Ate The Peach and Did A Ballroom Dance with the King'_ anymore. That probably wouldn't have fit on a novelty gift mug either.

There was another scuffle, and though only one Goblin had chosen to show himself, this time one of Sarah's paintings, a print of Klimt's _The Kiss,_ fell to the floor with an unholy bang that was not too welcome to her ear drums at 9am. She was _not_ going to be popular with the neighbours. The Goblins could not be described as unobtrusive visitors. No wonder Jareth had to resort to the bog.

"Hi there, guys!" she said, injecting a false cheerfulness into her voice and ignoring the havoc the Goblins had wreaked in the one short minute they had been present in her apartment. "Why are you hiding?"

There was another lot of muttering. And a pause.

Eventually, The Goblin With The Curved Horns popped up from behind her sofa. He spoke tentatively.

"King doesn't know we're here. Hiding so when he looks in crystal at Lady, he won't see us in house."

Sarah paused, unsure where to start first.

"Why would the King be looking at me in a crystal?" she asked curiously.

"Always is. Always looking. Always looking in crystal at Sarah lady, or kicking, or bogging or singing. Or here," said the Goblin With The Tusks carelessly.

"Shut up!" exclaimed an unseen Goblin furiously.

"Sorry," said the Goblin with the tusks apologetically, a look of utter dejection upon his wizened face.

His look of complete wretchedness provoked a tug of sympathy within Sarah, and she found she didn't have the heart to press him for more details. Better to get it from the horse's mouth later.

The Goblins had initially been befuddled when Sarah had first asked them what their names were. Unimpressed with the offerings of 'Cretin,' 'Moron,' 'Imbecile' and 'Putrid Scab,' which were, according to the Goblins, among their monarch's favourite pet names for his subjects, Sarah had taken it upon herself to find her own method of designating them. She had nicknamed them based on a distinctive feature of their appearance or expression. Thankfully, the Goblins were not an easily offended lot. Living with Jareth, Sarah supposed, had given them a rather thick skin.

Among the rabble was Tooth, who unsurprisingly, had very sharp, pointed teeth. There was also Grumpy, whose bushy black eyebrows made him look constantly bad-tempered and also a rather oddly named Goblin called Graham. Graham had been christened as such by Sarah due to his rather alarming resemblance to Sarah's old next door neighbour at her childhood home. It was probably the tufts of white hair, the grim expression and the snowy moustache. Graham (the man, not the Goblin) had been a fairly cantankerous, and had passed away a week after she had bested the Labyrinth. When the Goblin's had visited, Sarah had felt it was a fitting homage to the man who had once threatened to snap Merlin's Frisbee if it dared fly into his petunia bush again.

The Goblin With the Tusks was dubbed, a little less imaginatively, Tusk.

"It's alright, Tusk," said Sarah comfortingly. "It doesn't matter. I'm very pleased to see you, anyway. Would you like a cookie?"

Tusk, brightening considerably at the prospect of something crunchy to sink his infamous tusk into, hopped surprisingly lithely onto Sarah's sofa.

Sarah grimaced. She would have to clean it before Jareth deigned to make an appearance. _Eau De Goblin_ was a rank, lingering scent, consisting of the pungent smell of Goblin Ale, a diluted odour of bog water and other aromas that Sarah had no desire to trace the origin of. She had a feeling that it would not be hitting all major department stores near her any time soon.

Sarah reached up to her top shelf, which was thankfully out of the Goblins' height range, in order to retrieve the packet of chocolate chip goodies. All sweets had to be kept on the top shelf in light of Previous Incidents involving the Goblins and Sarah's apartment. Passing Tusk a cookie, Sarah supressed a shudder at the haunting, messy memory.

The Goblins, lured by the prospect of confectionaries, began to gradually make themselves visible. King be damned, since they had started visiting the Labyrinth's champion they had developed a sugar addiction and they were sure as hell going to eat Sarah's treats until their already yellowing teeth fell right out. Allegiance to the crown only went so far.

Fifteen minutes and three packets of _Cookie Dough Bites_ later, Sarah was alone. After consuming her monthly stock of biscuits in record time, the Goblins had bid a hasty goodbye to their 'Sarah Lady' in fear of their absence being detected by their temperamental ruler.

They needn't have worried. There was still no sign of the Goblin King. She wasn't sure whether she was looking forward to his arrival or dreading it. Not for the first time, she wondered if this truth business caused a little too much tension to really be worth it. She and Jareth were already explosive. What sense did it make to pour a whole lot of fuel to their fire? She felt that their half-truths and light-hearted jokes kept the peace better.

She found herself fussing a little more than usual when she dressed and applied her makeup. Not too keen to delve too deeply into this new development to her routine, she turned her thoughts to her still undecided third question. She supposed she could ask him why he had refused to stay, albeit on her couch, the previous night. The prideful part of her cringed at the idea. He had left her reeling after giving a more innocent kiss than she would have ever expected from him, but as the sleepless night had worn on, she had felt gradually more and more humiliated at his sudden departure. She needed to resist the temptation to wear her heart on her sleeve where Jareth was concerned.

"Don't lose your head," she muttered drily, echoing the advice of fierys. She felt it was particularly applicable in dealings with the mercurial Goblin King.

He had been angry when she had asked about Hoggle yesterday. Or rather, angry that she had goaded him into giving so much away. Sure, he had gotten over it (or appeared to), by the end of his visit, but still. It had been uncomfortable. She wondered if that was why he had refused her offer. She shook this thought off, frustrated with herself. It had been a stupid suggestion. Goblin Kings did not sleep on _couches._ She supposed they slept in grand four poster beds, in rooms with lots of crimson and velvet and –

She was cut off from her ruminations about Jareth's bedroom by the theatrical arrival of said Goblin King.

She glared at him to cover her awkwardness at the suddenness of his appearance.

"Do you know how sick I am of cleaning glitter up from this apartment?" she asked testily. "I find it _everywhere._ Can't you just arrive in a blast of Febreze or something?

He tilted his head, eyebrow raised.

"What, pray tell, is 'Febreze?'"

Sarah blushed, feeling uncharacteristically awkward in Jareth's presence.

"It's um, it's Air Freshener. Makes the room smell nice."

"I feel that that would be decidedly less dramatic."

"But _much_ more fragrant."

Jareth inclined his head.

"I will take it under advisory," he stated regally.

"That's all I ask."

Jareth flopped as gracefully as it is possible to flop, reclining on Sarah's sofa.

After a moment, he shot up again and grimaced, obviously repulsed.

"This smells," he said dangerously, "of Goblin."

"Ah," said Sarah slowly.

Jareth's mouth was pursed into a thin line.

"I wondered why the castle was so quiet this morning. I just assumed the little scabs had mercifully drunk themselves into oblivion."

"That Febreze suggestion is just becoming more and more enticing, isn't it?" said Sarah lightly.

Jareth ignored her.

"Well," he said, his good mood clearly evaporated, "I have come to continue our game. Have you considered your third question?"

"I've been considering it all night," offered Sarah, truthfully. "Put the lie detector crystal thing back in the middle then."

With a flourish of his hands, Jareth did so, reluctantly.

"Who's your favourite ever Labyrinth runner?"

Jareth scowled.

"Be _serious_."

"Okay, okay, fine, that isn't my question. I don't need to ask it. I already _know_ it's me."

Jareth rolled his eyes.

"Oh, but now I want to hear you say it."

The scowl upon Jareth's face was joined by a glare.

"Come on, Jareth," said Sarah, laughingly, intoxicated with the thrill of irritating the Goblin King. "Tell me I'm your favourite runner."

"No," he said, bluntly.

"Go on," she said teasingly.

"I already know that I am! Just tell me."

Jareth looked at her haughtily.

"If you already 'know' then why do you wish to hear me say it?"

Sarah shrugged.

"Just _tell_ me."

Jareth was starting to look more and more furious.

"No," he said, his voice low.

"Fine," Sarah snapped. "Then forfeit."

Jareth stared at her.

What had started as light hearted teasing did not feel very light hearted anymore.

"My third question to you is this: Am I your favourite runner of the Labyrinth?"

Jareth paused.

"No." He said, quietly. He would not give her the satisfaction of saying it. He could not.

As Jareth had known it would, the crystal flashed red.

"Oh, Jareth," Sarah crowed. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me or your own magical fib detecting crystal."

Jareth did not answer, but all at once, his face was millimetres away from Sarah's own, his hot breath upon her cheek.

"Oh, Precious. So provocative today. A pitiful attempt to mask your own irrepressible attraction to me."

"I'm not attracted to you, you egotistical douche bag!" spluttered Sarah unthinkingly.

The crystal flared red.

Well that was embarrassing.

Why did needling Jareth always seem so stupid when he was absent and feel as necessary as breathing when he was here?

Oh, that's right. Because she was an idiot.

Jareth was wearing the smuggest expression Sarah had ever seen on him. And that was saying something.

Furious at being caught out due to her own stupidity, she whirled away from him and stormed to the sofa, seething. She plumped the cushions viciously, wishing she could be hitting Jareth's maddeningly self-satisfied face instead.

"Really, Sarah," drawled Jareth from behind her. "So violent. I know it has been tainted with the stench of Goblin, but what did that settee ever do to you?"

She ignored him, continuing to 'plump' the cushions sadistically.

Until, that was, Jareth turned her boring, sagging, thrift store bought sofa into something that looked like it had come out of a stately home with a mere gesture. It was red and velvet, and Sarah was struck by how much it resembled the furniture she had imagined being in the Goblin King's own bed chamber. It looked at odds with the simplicity of the rest of the apartment.

"There," said Jareth grandly. "I have slain the offending object for you. Here is your new lounger. It is not only less ugly than that previous monstrosity, but decidedly less malodorous. Never let it be said that I am not generous."

She still did not look at him.

Jareth turned her to him, his hand on the crook of her arm. Sarah jumped at the contact.

"Sarah," murmured Jareth softly. "On the grounds that it was moronic, I have decided to reject your last question as void. Ask me another."

Sarah looked at his unusually unguarded expression with the gentle tenderness she saw so rarely in his eyes, and her remaining anger seeped away.

"Okay," she said quietly.

She sat on the wooden floor, hugging her jean clad legs to her like she was a child again.

Jareth stared at her, disbelieving.

"I have just sacrificed a sofa to you and you have chosen to sit on the floor."

She ignored him, thinking.

"Ungrateful wretch," muttered Jareth.

After a moment, she looked up at him.

"What's it like, being Goblin King?"

Jareth looked shocked, before he schooled his expression into one of disinterest.

"Why?" he enquired, drily. "Are you considering going after the job?"

"No," replied Sarah. "I just wondered."

Jareth, also ignoring the new, ostentatiously grand sofa, sat down gracefully on the floor opposite Sarah, his long, leather clad legs stretched out.

He frowned, considering.

After a pause, he spoke.

"Lonely," he said, simply.

Sarah's heart ached at hearing him say the word.

"It is boring. The Goblins are moronic drunkards, and there is little to occupy my time. People are rarely wished away to me, now." He smiled wryly and continued; "You were my first runner for a little over two decades. So, as you can imagine, I am hardly rushed off my feet. I have little contact with the other courts, however for this I am grateful, as they are all not only imbeciles but also pompous asses."

Though privately thinking that pompous ass could be Jareth's middle name, Sarah kept quiet.

After a pause in which she turned Jareth's words over in her mind, she spoke.

"Well then," she said, sounding more causal than she felt. "Why don't you do something else, if you hate it so much? You are like a thousand years old. Retire. Get a nice little beach house in Florida or something."

Jareth laughed hollowly.

"And who would take my place? I have no heir, no remaining family. Who will rule? I know I am hardly integral in the lives of the Goblins – they could get drunk and fight and shout at the chickens perfectly well without me, and the Labyrinth itself is sentient, but it needs leadership, someone to channel its power. Without me it would eventually rot, and die, taking all its inhabitants with it. The beach house in Florida, is unfortunately, an impossibility. Probably just as well," smiled Jareth ironically. "I do not particularly care for sand."

Sarah, uncharacteristically, was lost for words.

Jareth looked at her for a moment, and then stood briskly.

"Well then, precious. I do believe it is my turn again. Are you ready?"

She did not think that she was, particularly.

Not that that was going to stop him.

 _A/N –All reviewers will be entered into a draw to receive a free Graham The Goblin™ plush toy. Winners will be notified on the thirteenth hour of the 31_ _st_ _of September. Do you want it?_


	7. Chapter 7 - Operation GGKV

_A/N – I honestly cannot thank those of you who left feedback enough for the incredibly kind and inspiring reviews. I wouldn't be motivated to carry on writing without them._

 _Graham expresses his sincere gratitude also._

 _This chapter is dedicated to Honoria Granger. The suggestion in your last review could very well have been a joke. In fact, it probably was. But I don't care. I saw it. And I loved it. And my god, did I run with it. I hope I'm going to do it justice. There is a chance that a Graham The Goblin™ soft toy is hurtling its way towards you in the post whether you want him or not. Thankyou._

 _Sadly, Labyrinth still belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie to his wife._

Chapter 7 – Operation GGKV

Sarah was sat on her new and magically improved crimson sofa, stroking the soft velvet absent-mindedly. She had been shaken by her favourite Goblin King's admission that a life of singing, dancing, bogging, baby snatching and tight leather was not as quite as idyllic as one might first imagine, and for the last half hour, she had been plotting.

The long suffering Goblin King in question was pacing around Sarah in a decidedly predatory manner, oblivious to her machinations. Sarah, who had been watching him with a glazed expression for the last five minutes, yawned, and then reclined luxuriously.

She had to admit, Jareth had done one hell of a renovation job on the coach. She felt like she was sitting on a cloud. She leaned back and decided to have a break from _Operation Get The Goblin King A Vacation_ , or GGKV for short, for just one minute or so. She had really had _such_ an appalling sleep last night…

An indeterminate time later, she opened her eyes. She had suffered from a fairly traumatic dream, or rather nightmare (daymare? It was only 12pm…) involving Graham the Goblin, who bizarrely, had been wearing Jareth's high heeled boots and poet shirt. He had stolen an extra cookie from the top shelf (this was not the mentally scarring or even surprising part.) He had then begun chasing her around the apartment with it, tilting it temptingly this way and that, wiggling his snowy eyebrows and squeaking "do you want it?" in his reedy voice in what he clearly felt was a seductive manner.

Unexpectedly, an ethereally handsome, thankfully very much un-Graham like face was looming over hers, two mismatched eyes boring into her own.

"AAAH!" she cried, disorientated, shooting upright as suddenly as if she had been struck by lightning.

"Really, Sarah," said a voice as velvety as her new couch. "I was pacing with intimidating flair and style in preparation for my next line of questioning and you spoiled the whole effect by rather _rudely_ falling asleep."

When she did not reply immediately, her heart rate still not down to a healthy speed, but had looked around and was suitably relieved to see that Graham was neither wearing miniature leather pants, nor was he in the apartment, Jareth continued.

"Imagine my distress when I paused, ready to finally pose to you my fourth incredibly insightful and exceedingly perceptive enquiry, and found that you clearly find my company so dull that you had in fact," and at this Jareth affected a wounded tone, "begun to nap." He pouted, pushing his lower lip out. "I am wounded by your indifference, precious thing."

Sarah stretched and yawned loudly in reply.

Jareth was momentarily distracted from hosting his pity party by the way this motion exposed her stomach and brought her vest top tighter about her chest.

Seeing the direction of his gaze, Sarah glared at him. To Jareth's delight, she had turned a rather fetching shade of pink.

"Yeah, well, here's a word of advice Jareth," rallied Sarah, "next time I fall asleep, maybe don't just wait two millimetres from my face until I wake up. It was _creepy._ __Especially because I'm pretty well informed about your voyeuristic tendencies already."

Ah. That reminded her.

"By the way," she continued slyly, rising from the sofa languidly with the air of someone with a bone to pick, "what's all this I hear about you 'always' watching me in my apartment in one of your crystals?"

Jareth froze. In a second, however, he had recovered, a look of polite bemusement pasted onto his features.

"Those _slanderous_ Goblins," he said calmly. "I shall have them all bogged for High Treason. They are all utter perjurers. I truly do not know how they come up with these fantastical fabrications."

Sarah remained unconvinced.

"Jareth, the Goblins, bless their little filth encrusted socks, don't have two brain cells to rub together. They're hardly famed for their skill at lying. Who do you think I'm going to believe, you or them?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Sarah, precious thing, I beg to differ. The Goblins are at their cores, deceitful, dishonest, and mendacious. They are also, I would hasten to add, actually rather devious. Of course they are. I'm their role model."

Sarah considered this.

"You make a good point, Jareth," Sarah conceded.

The Goblin King preened, looking smug at having seemingly dodged a hurtling bullet of truth shot from point blank range.

"So what you're saying is," continued Sarah, "that because I don't trust you, I shouldn't trust the Goblins either."

Jareth looked displeased.

"I… suppose I am," he said grudgingly.

"Because," Sarah declared, on a roll now, "the goblins are just a product of their environment. They've learned all they know from you. They lie because you do."

Jareth made a noncommittal noise.

"So technically," said Sarah, "everything the goblins do is a reflection of you."  
Jareth looked at her warily. "In a sense…" he murmured, slowly.

"And the Goblins annoy you, because they're mean to each other and fight all the time and drink all day."

"That would be a fair statement," said Jareth cautiously.

"And so, Jareth," Sarah stated triumphantly, "by that logic you need to start being nicer to them, so that they're more bearable to live with. Because if you do something, they follow your lead. Do you see? And what will make you nicer, Jareth?"

Jareth raised his eyebrows, mystified.

"I do not know," he replied. Then, hopefully: "more bogging?"

"No, Jareth," said Sarah with the air of someone explaining something to a petulant two year old, "you are going to be nicer by being happier."

Jareth stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"I am happy now," he said evenly.

Sarah snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner.

"Yeah right," she muttered, exasperated.

"I am," Jareth said simply. And then, so quietly Sarah wasn't sure if she had misheard him, he continued. "I am with you."

There was silence for a moment as Sarah's breath caught in her throat.

She wished that her view of the crystal was not being obstructed by Jareth.

If she had seen it, she would have been delighted, and probably a little frightened, to know that it remained clear.

Jareth broke the pregnant pause first.

"But please, Sarah," he continued in a normal tone, "continue to wow me with your stunningly insightful psychological analysis. What were you going to suggest to cure the malady of my _obvious_ melancholy?"

"A vacation," said Sarah, in a very small voice.

There was another pause, more disbelieving than meaningful this time.

"I thought it might kill two birds with one stone," Sarah continued uncomfortably. "Give you a break from being 'Jareth The Goblin King' and give us a nice change of scenery." She smiled, a little sadly. "I wouldn't mind a vacation too, you know."

Jareth was scrutinising her. Sarah tried hard not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

Eventually, he spoke.

"Where," he asked slowly, "did you have in mind?"

"New Hampshire," said Sarah at once, relieved he appeared to at least be considering it.

"I know this place there called _The Mountain View Royale_ ," she continued quickly. "Karen and my dad went there for their anniversary last year. They loved it. Said it was the most relaxing place they'd ever been."

She was babbling now in a transparent attempt to cover her awkwardness.

"But it has loads of activities on offer too, and it's in the White Mountains so it's really picturesque and stuff. Karen said there was a spa and a pool and things like that. I think they even have a movie theatre inside."

God, she sounded like she was trying to pitch to Jareth from the hotel brochure now. She thought about mentioning the onsite petting zoo, but refrained. Jareth was not an animal person.

"And how, Sarah, do you propose to pay for this?" asked Jareth, with the question coming out more coldly than he had intended it to. He softened his tone. "As our delightful dining experience taught me, things Above tend to cost an exorbitant amount of mortal currency."

"Well," said Sarah, refusing to be cowed. "I've thought of that already, actually."

Jareth raised an upswept eyebrow.

"Oh?" he asked, with an air of polite indifference.

"Yes," she replied firmly. "I'm glad you brought up our dinner, actually. It's the same principle that we're going with now. Dine 'n Dash. Or…I don't know…Vacation 'n Vacate or something."

Jareth could not stop himself from giving her an amused glance. Oh _Sarah._ His company over the past two years had clearly corrupted her, he thought proudly. After a moment of enjoying basking in the glory of driving the Labyrinth's plucky heroine to theft by fraud, Jareth tuned back into what Sarah was prattling on about.

"I know it's a bit immoral. But…I feel like we deserve it. In a weird sort of way. I mean…you've been acting as King for…how long? Over five centuries? Six? Am I in the ballpark here?"

When Jareth did not respond she continued resolutely.

"Well, anyway, Above, in the US, you're allowed to retire at…I think it's 65. So technically, you've done approximately five centuries or so more work than you needed to. Think of how much you should've had by now from your pension! You're a senior citizen. The government _owes_ you this, Jareth. Sort of."

She frowned for a moment, thoughtful. "Though, in all fairness, I am discounting all the negativity you've inflicted upon the universe, with the baby stealing and the promises of certain death and stuff. You're not exactly St. Jareth, and come to think of it, I'm fairly sure that the Labyrinth isn't entirely legal. So really the government is more likely to throw you in a gaol cell than give you a free holiday if they heard about your royal duties." After a moment, she brightened suddenly, clearly disregarding any remaining moral scruples. "But anyway, a break will cheer you up. And maybe the Goblins will spend less time trashing my apartment if you stop bogging them every 0.2 seconds, so it's really a win-win situation."

He still did not speak.

"So, what we do is," continued Sarah, "Check-In under false names, stay for…I dunno, three days or something, or however long we feel like, rack up one hell of a bill on the mini bar and put everything on the tab they set up for you when you arrive. And then, when we're finished, you poof us back here. Never to be seen again at the Mountain View Royale." She smiled drily. "I just hope Karen doesn't want us all to go back up there for New Year."

"My, my," said Jareth, composedly. "You _have_ thought this through."

Sarah blushed.

"Yes," she said, a little defiantly.

"And what of your work?" Jareth asked, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his pristine leather waistcoat.

She sighed, exasperated.

"Jareth, I'm an actress between roles. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't even had an audition in a week. I'm going to have to start working that waitressing job too after all, but they don't want me to start until next Thursday. So we've got plenty of time."

Jareth gave her a calculating sidelong look.

"And what of my responsibilities?" he asked mildly.

"What responsibilities?" exclaimed Sarah, a little more harshly than she had meant to.

Jareth pursed his lips in annoyance.

"I mean," said Sarah hastily, "I know there's the Labyrinth, and that your responsible for keeping it and everyone in it alive. That's pretty huge. I get that Jareth, I really do. But…and you've got to know I don't mean any offence by this but…you can surely be away for short periods of time or else you wouldn't be here as often as you are."

Jareth said nothing.

He stood to stand by the window, gazing out at the weak autumn sunshine. After a few moments of silence, he spoke. "I politely decline," Jareth murmured coolly.

Sarah considered his solitary figure, and imagined him looking out over the Labyrinth, his lonely kingdom, entirely alone. Her resolve solidified.

"What if I forfeited one of my questions to you?"

Jareth turned round so quickly it made Sarah jump slightly.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, with an impossible calmness.

"You heard me," she said sulkily. "I'll give up my next question, if you agree to come. You can have an extra one."

He paused.

"I refuse to board one of those heinous air craft devices you told me about."  
Sarah smiled, confident in her victory now.

"We don't need to fly, Jareth," explained Sarah patiently. "It's only around a six hour drive from here. Though for someone who spends so much time as an owl I really don't know why you'd have such a problem with it. Really, even if we did crash or something you could just fly off. It'd just be me that'd get blown to smithereens."

Jareth clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Was it Sarah's imagination or had he just turned even paler than usual?

"That would not be the case," said Jareth, a little stiffly. "In that eventuality, I would merely have transported us safely back to your apartment."

"My hero," said Sarah, not entirely ironically.

After a moment of silence, he walked towards her until there was hardly a sliver of daylight between them. Sarah stood her ground.

"Sarah," Jareth murmured, his eyes intense and his voice low. "Why are you doing this?"

She shrugged. "Why not?" she replied, lightly. "I figured you could use a rest."

Jareth paused, unsatisfied with the brevity of the reply.

"Consider it my fourth question," he said, keeping his voice purposefully casual. "Why is it so important to you that we go away together?"

 _Damn_ , thought Sarah. No playing down the reaction his insight into his life as Goblin King had given her with evasive answers now.

"I thought you already had your fourth question all figured out," said Sarah slowly.

"I will ask it later," he murmured, still looking at her intently.

To Sarah's surprise, one leather gloved hand reached up to cup her chin.

His crystalline eyes stared into hers, full of some restrained emotion.

"Well…" she said, slowly, finding herself getting lost in those strange eyes. "I suppose I'm doing it because I've come to understand how…grating the goblins can get, even I don't believe you for a second when you say that they've got much malice in them. And I guess…because you upset me a little with your answer to my last question."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and Sarah reddened as she struggled to find the right words. She turned her face away from Jareth's oddly comforting hand. As soon as she had, she found she missed his touch. She looked at the floor instead, unable to meet his gaze.

"I don't like the thought of you being alone in the castle with only goblins for company. And I guess I don't like the thought of that because… I care about you. And…I know that I left last time. But I want you to understand that I'm here now."

After a moment, Jareth spoke. "Sarah," he said softly. "Forget about giving me an extra question. I'd rather give you a challenge."

"Oh?" she asked, looking up at him, still slightly pink and more than a trifle warily. "What is it?"

"It is something that I fear you will find quite difficult," he told her gravely.

Sarah's heart thudded. "Just _tell_ me Jareth."

"Very well," he nodded seriously. "I challenge you to stay completely still, and to refrain from saying anything at all in the next few moments."

Sarah, despite his instruction, opened her mouth to speak. She never got the chance. Because right at that moment, he kissed her. It was a light kiss. It wasn't innocent exactly, but unexpectedly sweet. He kissed her full on the mouth, his hands placed firmly on either side of her face. If it was an action intended to restrain her, Sarah reflected later, he needn't have bothered. She had automatically reciprocated.

After a couple of magical, hazy moments, he released her.

She stepped back a little dizzily.

There was a pause.

"I'll, um…I'll start packing then, shall I?" she asked, slightly breathily.

Jareth took in her blush and the glazed look in her green eyes, and quietly committed it to memory. He inclined his head in regal approval in answer to her question, an amused smile gracing his features.

As Sarah walked a little unsteadily into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, Jareth's small smile turned to a grin of pure exhilaration, his pointed teeth fully visible. Resisting the urge to do a victory dance and deciding to wait until he had a few Goblins available for back up performers, he decided instead to disappear at once from the apartment, leaving only specks of glitter floating in the air like motes of dust behind him.

He had packing of his own to do.

The Goblin King was having a holiday.

He would need twenty wardrobe changes at the very _least._

 _A/N OPERATION GGKV IS GO! Hope you enjoyed this one, lovelies. You do not know how many times I had to restrain myself from ruining (improving?) that mushy moment by writing an innuendo about Jareth packing something else. I'll leave you to work that one out for yourselves. If you are not too disgusted by my clearly diseased mind, please do review. I really do love you for it. I wish there were enough Graham™ plushies out there for all of you._


	8. Chapter 8 - Road Trip (Like A Record)

_A/N –Many, many thanks for the feedback! When I started writing this I had no idea what to expect due to this being my first fanfiction but you've all been_ _incredibly_ _lovely and very constructive! Thankyou._

 _Darknessinthedreamer_ _– It will be hard to separate Jareth from his leather and gloves. But I promise that I will try to do it very soon for you in an upcoming chapter. Thank you for your kind feedback!_

 _Honoria Granger_ _– I am so pleased you liked the chapter! The revelation of the existence of a Jareth prayer candle quite honestly made my day. I had to google it to see it with my own eyes. Perhaps we can do a trade. You can have the rights to Graham the Goblin™ and I'll take the candle off your hands. If I had a baby brother, I'd trade him for it instead. But I don't. So that's that one out of the window._

 _Aurora Kemanche -_ _You were so, so right about Jareth needing more than 20 outfits. I hope I've made up for it here._

 _anqel-lov3 –_ _I was honestly incredibly touched by your comment on my last chapter. It was such a complement, and to make someone's day better is all I want from my writing. Thankyou._

…

Chapter 8 – Turning The World Upside Down (Like A Record Baby)

Sarah and Jareth were in the car.

The car in question was a battered Toyota Echo, given to Sarah on her graduation from her father and Karen. It had been in decidedly better condition back then. A couple of dents in the paintwork had been borne from Sarah's own difficulties navigating the busy New York roads. The majority had come from the time the goblins had insisted upon joining Sarah for her weekly food shop.

On that particular trial with the goblins, Tooth had gotten a little peckish on the way to the store and had decided it essential to sample the renowned Aboveground culinary wonder of faux leather. Tooth's really very sharp teeth had not had much trouble against his prey. Suffice it to sum up the (fairly one-sided) battle this way – Tooth's teeth 1: Sarah's car: 0.

Therefore, between the bite-marks and the lingering, if thankfully, dissipating smell of goblin (Sarah had had five Little Trees air fresheners stacked in front of one another ever since), the interior was neither looking nor smelling that wonderful. Sarah shuddered at the memory of the disastrous, goblin heavy trip. _Never again_ , she vowed silently.

When Jareth had been introduced to the faded red Toyota an hour ago, he had been deeply unimpressed.

"Please tell me," he had remarked, a dangerous calm in his tone, "that this is merely the vehicle to take us to our actual mode of transportation."

Sarah had been stung.

"I'll have you know," she had said angrily, "that this baby is an Echo 1969. She's a classic."

"An echo of the time it was usable, perhaps," Jareth had retorted, eyebrows raised. "I fear it will not survive the journey."

Sarah had frowned. "She's rock solid!" she had protested, whacking the bonnet to illustrate. "Beautiful."

Jareth had looked at her doubtfully.

Even Sarah had to admit that 'beautiful' was a bit of a stretch.

The bickering had only got worse from there.

She was sure that Jareth would look much more at home in a sleek, black Mercedes. Or perhaps a vintage Bentley. Though, she ruminated, at least the black leather look interior of her decidedly less impressive vehicle matched his trousers. And the black look he was giving her.

He was stonily silent.

They had left her apartment at around 2pm, meaning they should get to New Hampshire just before night fall. For the last half hour, neither had spoken.

Sarah was in turns relieved and embarrassed by the silence. Driving with the Goblin King was distracting enough as it was without the added pitfall of driving the winding, narrow roads that lead up to the White Mountains.

A Goblin King who was, she now knew, an excellent kisser. Before she could get too unfocussed by becoming wrapped up in the undeniably pleasant memory, Jareth gave her a look so sulky she could physically feel its intensity corroding through her skull as she tried to concentrate on the road.

"Jareth," she said evenly. "I'm sorry I laughed at how many suitcases you brought." She somewhat spoiled the sincerity of her apology by snorting at the memory of Jareth attempting to pile four enormous and overflowing leather suitcases, two large boxes, and one small crate of what looked suspiciously like riding crops into her tiny Toyota.

Thankfully, Sarah had packed light.

Jareth continued to direct his best death stare at Sarah's profile whilst balancing one box of what he felt could be described only as regal-smart-casual, mid-morning, pre-lunch attire on his knee.

Though Jareth's best death stare would have been capable of causing the Labyrinth's bravest and most dangerous beasts to turn and flee, and indeed had done so upon occasion, Sarah Williams was a very different and in some ways more fearsome creature, and merely raised her eyebrows, her eyes never leaving the road.

Eventually, Jareth could keep quiet no longer.

"How much longer," he enquired sulkily, "do I have to be in his decrepit, goblin reeking vehicle?"

Sarah exhaled sharply, exasperated.

"Jareth," she replied sharply, "we only set off an hour ago. We could have gone a lot sooner if you hadn't brought so much stuff. I think we'll get there just before it gets dark. So we still have about five hours to go."

There was a pause, and the Goblin King gave Sarah a sideways glance, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes.

"Well I wonder…" murmured Jareth in a distinctly different tone of voice. "Whatever we can do to pass the time?"

Sarah resisted the urge to pull over.

Damn him and his seductive, velvety voice.

She struggled to keep her voice even and her eyes on the road. "Oh, I don't know Jareth," she said lightly. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Jareth inspected one leather clad hand for a moment.

"Well," he purred, "you could always ask me your next question."

Ah. The game. Sarah had forgotten about that.

"Oh," she said.

Jareth heard the tinge of disappointment in her tone and turned to look out of the window so that Sarah would not see the elated and decidedly devilish grin that she had incited.

"Well, okay," said Sarah quickly. "Give me a little time to think. Put the radio on, if you like, so we can listen to music while I'm deciding on my question."

Jareth looked at the radio blankly.

"How," he enquired after a moment of sizing up his unfamiliar opponent, "does it operate?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Actually," she replied, "I've thought better of letting you anywhere near it. I'll turn it on myself, just wait until we pass this car."

When they had passed the car in front of them, Sarah fumbled, still with one hand on the steering wheel and her eyes on the road in front of her, to turn the radio on. After grasping at air for a moment unsuccessfully, she felt a leather gloved hand grasp her wrist and direct her gently to the radio. Even that slightest of contact had been electric.

"Thanks," she mumbled awkwardly as she finally found the right button and managed to turn the radio on.

Jareth inclined his head in acknowledgement, unable to suppress a small, genuine smile.

Music filled the car.

"Oh!" excalimed Sarah, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. "I love this song!"

Jareth stared at her in bemusement. And listened. In his not so humble opinion, it sounded like a choir of angels. Being crucified.

However, it was decidedly better than famed Goblin ditties such as ' _I've Lost My Chicken_ ,' ' _The King Bogged Me Again'_ and ' _Pour Me Another (Goblin Ale)'_ and it seemed to make Sarah happy, so he decided to refrain from saying anything too facetious.

"It has a very good melody," lied the Goblin King.

"Mmm!" agreed Sarah, who was too busy bopping her head in time to the music happily to reply properly.

Jareth watched her fondly, his brows furrowed. He was deeply amused.

When the male singer reached the irritatingly repetitive chorus, Sarah began to sing. Badly. She was not quite as tone deaf as the goblins, Jareth reflected, but she was certainly not much better.

He stared at her, this beautiful, brave, passionate, down right _irritating_ human woman who had so enchanted him. She had entered his life, smashed it up, rejected him, and left him to foot the bill of a horrendous amount of damage to the Goblin City. And he still wanted her. She truly had turned his world upside down.

Sarah thoughts, at that moment, were a little less profound.

"YOU SPIN ME RIGHT ROUND, BABY, RIGHT ROUND LIKE A RECORD, BABY, RIGHT ROUND ROUND ROUND," she bellowed, out of tune.

 _Indeed you do, you precious thing_ , thought Jareth wryly.

He really _would_ have to give Sarah singing lessons sometime.

A little while later, the radio had mercifully been turned off and the landscape was gradually becoming less industrial and more open, with trees spattering the grassy banks they whirred past.

Sarah looked at Jareth from the corner of her eye. He was sleeping peacefully, a small smile upon his face. Irresistibly, Sarah found herself stealing glances at him in her overhead mirror as she was driving along the increasingly quiet roads.

He was different when he was asleep. As she looked at him now, there was something almost boyish about him, in the complete unguardedness and serene vulnerability of his expression. Sarah felt a strange tug on her heartstrings. He was beautiful. She shook her head slightly, sighing, and resolved to not look at him anymore. There was only room for one total voyeur in this too small car.

When he was sure Sarah was no longer looking, Jareth's lips twitched in smug satisfaction. Sarah had been staring at him _shamelessly_. And to think, after all the censure she had given him for watching her in his crystals!

Deciding enough was enough, Jareth stretched and yawned ostentatiously. Sarah glanced at him and smiled shortly.

"What a refreshing rest," said Jareth, his tone full of false innocence.

"Yeah, well," said Sarah a little brusquely, "you've been asleep for a good hour. We're getting nearer to the mountains, see? I think we've got around two hours left."

"Oh wonderful," said Jareth cheerfully.

Sarah shot him a suspicious look from the corner of her eyes.

"Well then, Sarah, have you decided on your next move in our little game?" asked Jareth, anxious to divert her from any brewing scepticism on his feigned sleep.

It worked.

Sarah bit her lip, considering.

"Well," she said, cautiously. "I guess so."

Jareth raised his eyebrows, waiting. His heart began to thud with excitement. Everything that came out of Sarah's mouth was truly a surprise to him. It simultaneously thrilled and frightened him. He kept his expression carefully blank.

"Get the crystal out then," she said. From the side of her face that Jareth could see, her mouth was downcast. She looked uncomfortable.

At the sight of her expression, Jareth did not protest.

"Of course, dear Sarah," murmured the Goblin King.

"You can put it on the dashboard where I can see it. It won't roll off if you put it behind the Hula girl."

Jareth followed Sarah's instructions, not even pausing to make a disparaging comment regarding Sarah's 'Hula girl,' which had been bobbing up and down good naturedly with a vacant smile on its painted face for the entire car journey.

As though she'd been waiting for him to comment, Sarah had guessed his feelings of distaste towards the plastic monstrosity anyway.

She allowed him a small smile. "I bought her as a souvenir when I went to Hawaii," she murmured ruefully. "It was an impulse buy. Not one of my classiest purchases."

Jareth was inclined to agree.

There was a long pause.

Jareth was about to press Sarah for her question when she spoke abruptly.

"Why me?" she asked, almost forcefully.

Jareth was taken aback.

"I…beg your pardon?" he asked, carefully injecting a level of calm into his voice.

Sarah kept her eyes on the road ahead.

"Why me?" she asked, more softly this time. "Out of everyone, every person that must have run the Labyrinth or wished away a child to you, why do you keep coming back to me?"

Jareth was quiet for a moment, unsure how best to proceed. He looked at the crystal, which was just visible to him behind the Hawaiian figurine. The Hula girl's painted smile, a crude gash of red on her tanned face, seemed to have turned mocking.

Sarah's shoulders were rigid, waiting.

"Would you prefer me to have ignored your call?" he asked, stalling.

Sarah sighed.

"You know that's not why I'm asking, Jareth," she said quietly, almost tenderly.

Jareth stared out of the window, watching the trees blur past.

"I do not know why you, Sarah," replied Jareth simply.

The crystal remained clear.

Sarah nodded slightly, trying to ignore the sudden constriction within her stomach and the ache in her heart.

"However," he said, still looking out of the window, his voice calm, "I can truly tell you that even though I do not know _why_ it is you, it will _always_ be you."

He paused, unable to keep the intensity from his voice any longer. "There will be no other."

The scene outside was becoming more and more rural and the roads even narrower. As they turned a corner, Jareth leaned forward suddenly, his leather gloved hands moving to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun.

"What in the name of hell?" he started –

Sarah swore violently and braked sharply.

They both got out of the car and stood staring at the obstacles in front of them. The living, breathing obstacles.

The herd of cows stared back at them, unrepentant for the inconvenience they were quite clearly causing.

After staring at the cows for another moment, Jareth moved to sit on a nearby tree stump. With a flick of his wrist, a crystal became a juicy looking apple. Jareth took a bite, apparently supremely unconcerned.

"Aren't you going to do something?" demanded Sarah, irritated.

Jareth looked at her, amusement flickering in his light eyes.

"I am doing something," he replied blithely. "I am waiting for these creatures to move."

Sarah decided to be proactive. She approached the cows tentatively.

"Hi, cows," she said in a friendly tone. She turned back to look at Jareth who was not even bothering to suppress his glee at watching her attempt to negotiate with cattle. He gave her a jaunty wave. She replied with a rude gesture and turned back to the cows. Jareth's melodious laughter rung out behind her.

"Listen, cows," she said quietly, "I have gone through a very, very difficult car ride, and I have a very challenging vacation ahead of me. I am chauffeuring a smug, terrifying, sexy Goblin King to the Mountain View Royale on a _very_ illegal vacation. I've become embroiled in a game of truth with said Goblin King that's spinning out of my control, and that's resulted in a lot of unspoken things and repressed feelings being, well…unrepressed. I need to end this car journey, get to this hotel, and slam a Vodka and Coke down my throat, very, very soon or I am going to go insane. Forgive me, but your black and white asses are not going to stop me. So move it or lose it."

The cows looked unsympathetic, and continued to chew grass happily.

"Okay," said Sarah, a dangerous calm in her voice. "You are going to move…NOW." She clapped her hands. The cows ignored her. She clapped again. "NOW!" she repeated, hopefully.

"I am supremely surprised Sarah," Jareth called mockingly, "to learn that you are fluent in conversing with cattle. Your command of bovine psychology is truly astounding. Is there no end to your talents?"

"Why don't you challenge them to something?" called back Sarah, slyly.

She began to jump up and down, wafting her hands in desperation, trying to get the cows to dissipate. They looked at the crazy human lady blankly.

"Oh yes," said Jareth wryly, finishing his apple and throwing the core into a bush. "That's going to work wonderfully."

Jareth stood, and walked over to where Sarah was still performing some kind of ritual dance in order to tempt the cows into leaving.

He surveyed the scene, hands on hips.

"Ever the optimist, Sarah," he murmured drily, more to himself than to her.

He considered setting the cleaners on them, but felt that despite how annoyed Sarah seemed to be, she would probably disapprove later.

When Sarah performed a movement that caused her to nearly whack herself in the face with her own arm, Jareth felt he had to intervene.

Swallowing his considerable pride, Jareth began to wave his own arms, albeit in a much less crazed manner than Sarah. Whether it was a response to the inherent regality of the Goblin King, a reaction to the aura of crackling power and magic that seemed to surround him, or even just a primal recognition that the Goblin king was something _other_ , the cows began obediently to vacate the narrow road, moving off into a gap between the trees and shuffling towards a nearby field.

Sarah stared at him, disbelieving.

"How," she asked slowly, "did you manage that?"

Jareth looked at her smugly and tilted his head.

"Magic," he said.

Sarah looked at him, shaking her head.

"Just…just get back in the car."

He did so.

The engine revved and they set off.

An hour and a half later, a rather bedraggled looking Sarah pulled up to the carpark of the Mountain View Royale Resort. Jareth remained pristine and smug, his hair still perfectly voluminous and with the same smug look in his mismatched eyes that he had set off with.

"Leave the bags," commanded Sarah as they disembarked. "They send someone to come and get them." 

Jareth, who had had no intention of lugging four suitcases, two boxes and a large crate up to his room without magic in the first place, acquiesced.

"Right," said Sarah determinedly. "Let's get to the Check In desk."

Sarah marched through the silver revolving doors at once, not waiting for Jareth.

Jareth eyed the doors warily.

They were _moving._

Just as he was considering sending a crystal to blow a hole through the wall of the resort for easy access, Sarah marched right back out.

"Come _on,"_ she muttered furiously, speaking quietly in order to avoid being heard by the impassive looking doorman. "You look so weird, just standing staring like that."

Jareth glared at Sarah, incensed. But then, he noticed she had a leaf in her hair, presumably acquired whilst performing the herding dance to the cows. He noticed the slightly crazed look in her eyes, and refrained from making any kind of retort. He merely picked out the piece of foliage and smiled benignly down at her.

Sarah rolled her eyes, refusing to be mollified, and grabbed Jareth's arm none too gently, guiding him through the revolving doors.

Thankfully, they made it unscathed to the reception area.

Even Sarah, in a foul mood, breathed in sharply at the sight. It was beautiful. The huge, classic French windows flaunted a stunning view of the White Mountains, and the interior was magnificent, with mahogany and leather furniture dotted tastefully around the huge room.

After admiring the room for a moment, Sarah quickly filed away the knowledge that the Mount View Royale resort was one stunning place and got the hell over it.

She strode forcefully to the Check-In Desk. Jareth followed her.

"Hi," said Sarah, bestowing the female receptionist with only a cursory glance. "We need two rooms. From today."

She looked at them, beaming. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Um, no," said Sarah tersely. "But your sign outside says you still have vacancies." 

The receptionists face fell at once, so quickly it might almost have been comical had Sarah not had such a harrowing journey and been so royally pissed off.

"Yes, Madame," began the receptionist, brows furrowed in an exaggerated show of worry, "but we've just had an incredibly busy hour – lots of arrivals you see. We've just had a couple flights in you see. We're fully booked up, I'm afraid. If only you'd arrived even just a half hour sooner…"

There was a pause.

Upon seeing Sarah's face, the receptionist began to type furiously into her computer, looking a little frightened.

"We do still have the Presidential Suite available. But that's one room for two, obviously. We typically keep it for honeymoons, but at the moment it's –"

"We'll take it," Sarah said, cutting her off impatiently.

"Perfect!" crooned the receptionist unabashed, her smile firmly back in place.

Jareth said nothing.

"And what name shall I put that under?"

"Williams," said Sarah, without thinking. "I mean-no!"

There was a pause.

Ah. She and Jareth really should have had a conversation about this earlier.

Sarah and Jareth looked at one another. Sarah, uncharacteristically, was lost for words. For this very illegal plan to work, it was probably best not to use her very real, and very traceable name. Oops.

At that moment, Jareth saved the day.

"She means King," he interjected smoothly, flashing the receptionist his most winning smile. "Sandra and James King." He leaned on the granite counter, and spoke to the receptionist confidingly. "We've actually just gotten married ourselves, you see. She keeps forgetting the new surname." He rolled his eyes fondly in Sarah's direction.

The receptionist simpered.

"But we prefer to sleep in separate rooms usually," continued Jareth. "This one," he gestured to Sarah, and looked mischievously at the receptionist, "is a terrible snorer. I can hardly stand it. I banish her to a different bedchamber."

The receptionist giggled girlishly.

"But I'm sure," said Jareth heroically, "that I can put up with her for now." He turned to Sarah, his eyes full of mirth. "Can't I, pumpkin?"

Sarah, too relieved to even glare, did not reply.

Jareth turned back to the receptionist.

"Bless her," he murmured quietly, "she's a shy, retiring little thing. Very pretty, but not the brightest."

The receptionist looked doubtful, but nodded faithfully. She began to type the false details in.

"Pumpkin?" mouthed Sarah, disgusted.

Jareth merely beamed.

"Alright then!" exclaimed the receptionist happily. "Lovely. That's in the system for you and your tab is all set up. You just put everything on there and pay at the end. How long are you planning on staying with us?"

There was another pause.

After a moment, Jareth spoke. "One week," he said firmly.

If the receptionist thought there was anything odd about the dapper, charismatic English gentleman and his quiet, fairly grumpy looking wife, she did not show it.

"Lovely," she repeated inanely. "Here are your keys, Sir, Madame." At this she passed them two heavy, regal looking gold keys.

"Wonderful," said Jareth, looking up at the receptionist from behind his lashes, clearly still on a charm offensive. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Not at all!" she exclaimed saccharinely. "Thank _you_."

As Jareth, or rather James, turned away, she winked at Sarah. "Have a wonderful honeymoon, Mr and Mrs King."

Sarah had no words, and merely turned on her heel and marched after Jareth.

The very first step for Mrs King, Sarah knew, was to find the bar. And to have a very, very, stiff drink.

Cheers to married life.

A/N – _Whilst we wait for Sarah to regain a level of sanity over at the bar, please do review._

 _The song Sarah murders, if any of you are unfamiliar with 80s pop classics, is You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) by Dead Or Alive. Please do yourselves a favour and look up the video. It contains another makeup wearing, fierce looking, glam rock male and the lyrics are oddly relevant to Jareth's feelings re: Sarah, as I discovered today. I hope you enjoyed this._


	9. Chapter 9 - Old Dreams, New Dreams

A/N, _Thank you, as ever, for the reviews. They are genuinely more entertaining than the actual story. Graham agrees with me._

 _Updates will probably be slowing down a little from now on (hopefully not much!) as last week was almost a challenge (unfortunately, one set by myself rather than Jareth) to see if I could work writing 2000-4000 words a day around Real Life. Hopefully now I'll be able to take a little more time to proof read and tweak things! I hope you're enjoying it and that it has given you a few giggles, precious things._

 _Shocker: I still don't own Labyrinth._

Chapter 9 – Old Dreams, New Dreams, In-Between Dreams

If the bellboy had thought it strange that Mr King's copious amount of luggage was embossed with the words " _Property Of King Jareth –Touch And Be Bogged,"_ in large gold letters, he had not voiced any of his concerns.

In gratitude for his silence, Sarah had rifled through her perpetually light purse and given him a real tip. In real, genuine US Dollars. She felt that he deserved it. Plus, the sudden lack of legality in her life was starting to niggle at her conscience.

The same affliction wasn't bothering Jareth. He didn't have a conscience, or had, at least, misplaced it.

As soon as the bellboy had shut the door gently behind them, Sarah wasted absolutely no time in laying down some more ground rules.

"You're not staying in the bed with me," she had said immediately. "You can sleep in the bath. Magic it into another bed, or something."

Jareth had raised his eyebrows and pouted sulkily. "I heard no complaints from you when you were informed that we would have to share earlier, _Mrs King_."

Sarah had given him a hard stare.

"Jareth," she had said pleasantly, "do you understand how draining that car journey was? I would have agreed to share with Ludo and sleep in a room that had an overlooking balcony view of the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"Well," he had replied, stung. "Perhaps _you_ are not staying in that bed with _me_."

"How gallant."

Jareth had ignored her, and jumped on the bed, reclining regally, his hands behind his head. "Hmm, not bad," he had told her lazily. "Very comfortable."

Sarah had glared at him.

"Fine," she had replied, refusing to be baited. "If you're going to be like that, we'll flip a coin for it."

She had produced one from her purse.

"Heads I get the bed, Tails you do. And _I'm_ flipping the coin."

The coin was flipped. To Sarah's immense satisfaction, it landed Heads side up.

Shockingly, she had denied his demand for a rematch with the winner to be decided by the best of thirteen tosses.

"But really, Sarah," he had wheedled, "the bathroom is far too _small_ to fit a decently sized bed."

She had remained adamant.

Jareth sighed internally. Sarah really was _so_ difficult.

Presently, he was alone. Sarah had gone to try and find the dining room, and had left muttering something about needing to stop at the bar for a bit of literal 'vacation spirit' on the way.

He surveyed the suite, and had to admit that he found its cleanliness and lack of chickens refreshing. He took in the rose petal strewn king-size bed properly and allowed it a wolfish smile. He spotted a bottle of champagne and two exquisitely crafted glasses placed thoughtfully next to the bed and waved his hand. The cork flew out with a satisfyingly loud pop. He wandered over and poured himself a generous measure, sipping contentedly. Perhaps this extended break from the Underground would do him good after all.

Then, however, Jareth noticed something that put a slight dampener on his resolutely cheerful mood. He shot a dark look at the large fruit bowl positioned tastefully upon the mahogany coffee table. A peach peeked out insolently between an apple and banana. If it was possible for a piece of fruit to look smug, reflected Jareth, this one would have managed it.

He strolled over to the offending peach and picked it up, twirling it this way and that with his long, dexterous fingers.

Sarah, returned from her wandering and mollified from her horrendous mood by a hastily gulped vodka and coke, leaned against the door frame, watching him. She smiled ruefully.

"Ah," she murmured. "A peach. Happy memories."

Jareth looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, but suppressed a biting retort.

There was a pause.

"Do you want it?" he asked her, his voice husky.

Sarah smiled, forcing a calmness into her tone despite the fact that her heart was beating faster than Ambrosias running away from confrontation.

"How nostalgic of you," she said lightly.

"I truly am a sentimental old soul," he said drily.

"You haven't drugged it in the ten minutes I've had my back turned, have you?" she enquired archly.

Jareth smiled a pointy smile.

"Only one way to find out, precious thing," he murmured.

"You know," she replied suspiciously, "even if it is drugged you're still not getting the bed. I'll bust out of that ballroom again you know."

Jareth merely looked at her intently.

When she saw he was not laughing, she crossed the room until she was directly in front of him, refusing to be intimidated. She tilted her head, waiting.

Ever so slowly, Jareth raised the fruit to her mouth, offering it to her wordlessly. She opened her mouth obediently and took a small bite as Jareth held the peach between his gloved fingers. Sweetness filled her mouth. She gulped. It was delicious. Sarah unconsciously licked her lips as the juice ran down her lips, and Jareth's eyes darkened.

"Nice," she said awkwardly, stepping back a little. "Nicer than last time, anyway. At least it isn't laced with a hallucinogenic. You didn't get it to taste quite right before, you know. It tasted…false."

"I will know for the next time that I give you one," muttered Jareth, a little throatily.

Sarah laughed feebly to try and cover her embarrassment. "In your dreams, Jareth," she said a little shakily.

"No, Sarah," he murmured, still looking down at her intently. "The important dreams have always been yours."

She could not think of a witty comeback.

There was a long pause in which Sarah looked at the floor, shifting her weight uncomfortably.

 _Well,_ she thought, a little stunned. _That was an interesting trust exercise_.

Speaking of matters of trust and truth -

"Sarah," asked Jareth after a moment, "Why did you leave the ballroom?"

She looked up at him, disbelieving. "I…what? Jareth, that's a stupid question. You know why I had to smash the ballroom. I saw the clock and I remembered Toby."

"Let me rephrase the question," he replied calmly. "I wish to know if there was anything I could have done differently."

"Differently?"

"If the dream could have been… improved. Tailored to you better."

She looked at him. "This is your fifth question?" she asked, still unsure.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"You haven't gotten the crystal out," she said slowly.

He gave her a brief smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Why," he enquired, "are you planning on lying to me?"

"No," she replied honestly.

"Well then," said Jareth evenly. "I feel it can be dispensed with for the moment."

Sarah looked down at the perfectly ripe, succulent peach, still in Jareth's gloved hand. It was soiled only by her one, tiny bite-mark.

"It was a beautiful ballroom," she stated, carefully. "And the dress…it was like something out of a fairy-tale."

Jareth smiled wryly, but said nothing.

"But…it was the other guests. In the masks. They were frightening." She looked up at him, a hint of reproach entering her voice. "And you hid from me, at first."

"So the other attendees were a mistake," he murmured thoughtfully.

"The thing is, Jareth," she said slowly, "that I was just too young. I never understood what you were offering. And _you_ never understood that. So, um…no. I don't think the dream could have made me stay if it had been a little different, if that's what you're asking."

Jareth remained silent.

"Are you…upset?" she asked tentatively.

Jareth scrutinised her for a moment. "No," he said thoughtfully after a moment, as though he were slightly surprised to discover that he were telling the truth. "What's said is said, and what is done is done."

He looked out of the large bay window for a moment, his expression pensive. "Perhaps," he continued, almost more to himself than to her, "it is better to leave that particular dream where it is. In the past, and shattered."

There was a pause.

"So…" Sarah said, completely at a loss with the direction the conversation had turned in. "We're…we're okay then?"

Jareth turned back to her, all of a sudden seemingly greatly amused.

"Yes, Sarah," he said tranquilly. "We are okay."

"Okay," she repeated, puzzled. "Right then. Good. Well, I'm um…I'm going to start getting ready so we can go eat. The dining room is just round the corner from reception. Do you…do you want to change first?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow. With a flick of his hand, he was dressed in an exquisitely tailored midnight blue shirt the colour of a starless sky, and tight, form fitting black trousers. The effect, whilst not as dramatic as usual, was decidedly striking. He was, Sarah noticed, gloveless. She stared at the aristocratic, elegant hands, reflecting that this was the first time she had ever actually seen them uncovered. They were beautiful.

Interestingly, despite Jareth's reluctance to be parted from his gloves, in the years that had followed their reunion Sarah had noticed that he had gradually started to wear slightly less extravagant outfits, and that the hair had become a little less…big. He had begun opting more often than not for a poet shirt and leather trousers rather than armour, or the unforgettable feathered jacket she remembered from their final confrontation. Whilst his clothes were always dramatic, always subtly otherworldly, it was almost as though his style had grown as she had, adapted as her tastes had changed and developed. Unbidden, an anguished voice reverberated in her head –- _"everything I've done I've done for you…"_

Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of this troubling thought, Sarah reflected that he could probably wear an ensemble fashioned from a garbage bag and make it look like an ethereal, cutting edge fashion choice. Realising that she had been staring at Jareth with her mouth slightly ajar for a little _too_ long, she blushed.

Jareth smiled at her wolfishly, as though he was perfectly aware that she had inspected him thoroughly and that she had very much liked what she had seen. He had seemingly regained his usual arrogant demeanour.

Sarah's light pink flush turned tomato red.

"Right. Um. Okay then," she stuttered inarticulately. "Um, go and have a look around the resort yourself then, if you like. While I get ready. See what you can see. I'll meet you in reception at eight?"

Jareth inclined his head in regal approval, still smiling smugly. Sarah retreated to the bathroom hastily before she could embarrass herself any more.

When she returned to the bedroom, teeth brushed and long hair piled up hastily on her head, Jareth had gone.

 _Wow_ , she reflected silently. The Goblin King truly was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a shirt that had probably cost more than this month's rent on her apartment.

She tried to run through a mental checklist of the things she had packed earlier. To her surprise, she found she could remember little. _Probably_ , said a voice inside Sarah's head, _because you were too busy reliving that amazing kiss_. She sighed, trying to rid herself of that distracting memory, and unzipped her small suitcase. She stared at the contents for a moment, panic gradually mounting. She began to be grateful that Jareth hadn't given her time to change when they'd dined out the day before.

Had it really only been yesterday?She had learned so much about him in such a short time, about his feelings about her. A crash course in understanding the Goblin King. Eventually, she knew, she would have to process the things she had discovered about Jareth and about their relationship. And, in all fairness, the things she had learned about her feelings towards him. But now was not that time. Right now, she had to find an outfit.

Jareth had only ever really seen her dressed casually, disregarding her time in the peach dream. A small part of her recognised that she was looking forward to showing off a little. What did one wear to dinner with a Goblin King, exactly? _Something tasselled,_ said the irrepressible voice inside her head. _Or studded. Or leather. Or all three at the same time._

"Perhaps not," she said to the room at large.

She began to rootle in her suitcase inelegantly, throwing items haphazardly across the bed. Right at the bottom, she discovered what she had been looking for. Thank god she had remember to pack it. She pulled it out, hoping that it wasn't too creased.

It was an undeniably gorgeous dress. It was a dark cherry red, made of silk and chiffon, tight and knee length with a flattering V-neck cut. The colour set off her dark hair and intense green eyes beautifully. She put it on, looked in the mirror, and thought happily that despite the lack of tassels, it should do quite nicely.

As she did her makeup, she wondered idly if she should see if Jareth had brought a riding crop that would match her outfit, perhaps in a tasteful shade of silver. She imagined herself strolling down to dinner, swishing one regally. Jareth would love it. Unbidden, her traitorous imagination began to conjure up another scenario involving a riding crop that Jareth would very likely enjoy.

Desperately, she walked over to the bottle of already opened champagne, poured herself a very large glass, and began to down it. That was enough of those sort of thoughts for one night, thank you. Her brain needed to be bleached, or at the very least rinsed in corrosive goblin ale. Her subconscious was clearly a complete and utter deviant.

By the time she had managed to wrestle her thoughts into submission and had eventually made it downstairs, it was twenty past eight and Jareth was sitting, unconsciously regal, on a dark green leather arm chair. His pale, poetic face was wearing an expression of utter boredom.

When he saw Sarah walking towards him, illuminated angelically by the soft lighting, his expression turned to one of wonder and awe, even without the riding crop. He rose from his chair gracefully, his eyes never once leaving her face. By the time she had reached him, however, he had recovered himself somewhat.

"You're late," he told her sternly.

"Hmm, I guess… but look at me," she said jokingly, spreading out her arms in an imitation of a showgirl. "I'm beautiful."

Jareth looked at her seriously. "You're always beautiful."

Sarah's heart did a somersault in her chest.

"However," he continued, "I am willing to concede that you are _particularly_ stunning tonight. Even more so than usual. Even if you did keep me waiting for twenty one tedious minutes. Never let it be said that I am not both fair _and_ generous."

"I…thanks," she stuttered, abashed by the look in Jareth's eyes. It wasn't the dark intensity of the look he had given her when he fed her the peach, but something a little deeper and perhaps more pure. It made Sarah's insides turn into a consistency resembling goo.

"Though I must admit," he said, lightly stroking the silk strap of her dress, "I still retain a certain fondness for the puffy sleeves."

Sarah suppressed a shiver at the nearness of his bare skin on hers.

"Perhaps I could have some sewn on to it," she said lightly. "Keep the old dream alive."

"Tempting, precious. But I do not think that will be necessary. Better to breathe life into new dreams rather than keeping on regurgitating the old ones, wouldn't you say?" Jareth replied, deceptively nonchalant.

Sarah looked up at him and smiled slightly. "You're the expert," she murmured. "But I would be inclined to agree."

"Indeed," Jareth replied, returning the smile. He offered her his arm. "Shall we adjourn to the dining room, Mrs. King?" he enquired silkily.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but accepted his proffered arm.

"Don't call me that when we're _alone,"_ she muttered, a little mulishly. "That's just _weird_. You do actually realise that I'm not your wife, don't you?

"In your _dreams_ , Sarah dearest," he replied silkily, gleefully throwing her earlier words back at her.

"Shockingly, Jareth, you're not my idea of a perfect husband."

Jareth's eyes widened in indignation. "And why not?" he demanded.

Sarah looked at him incredulously.

"There are so many reasons 'why not'" she said teasingly, "that the vacation would honestly be over by the time I'd got through half."

Jareth looked down at her, a playful look in his mismatched eyes. "Oh Sarah, I do _so_ adore it when you play hard to get."

Sarah ruined the rather pretty picture the two had made, standing side by side with arms linked and staring into each other's eyes, by hitting Jareth hard on the arm with her free hand.

"Truly, you are breath-taking when you're angry, dearest," mocked Jareth, laughing at her. "I know it's the honeymoon, but please do at least _attempt_ to keep your hands off me. We're in public."

"Why," asked Sarah, not really very crossly, "did I sign myself up for this? You're literally insufferable."

Jareth looked down at her. "I think we already established that in my fourth question, precious thing. It's because you secretly _care_ about me," he said smugly.

Sarah, who at that moment could not think of an adequately biting reply, merely rolled her eyes. "Are we going to dinner or not?" she asked. "Or are you just going to stand here being irritating all night?"

"Please, Sarah," said Jareth, repressed laughter still lighting up his mismatched eyes, "lead the way."

She did so.

Two hours, three courses and much easy teasing later, they stood together on one of the resorts many observation decks. The night was cool and clear, and the stars were bright. A full moon shone down upon them, lending the both of them a silvery glow. The pale moonlight, Sarah reflected, made Jareth look even more ethereal than usual, and gave his crystalline eyes an even more piercing effect. They were both staring up at the stars, the gentle breeze lifting their hair so that the light and the dark twined together as one.

They were entirely alone.

Eventually, Jareth looked down at her. "Is the night sky more to your satisfaction here, Sarah?" he enquired lightly.

She smiled up at him. "It's beautiful. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Yes," he murmured in agreement, still looking at her.

There was a pause. After a moment, Sarah spoke.

"Jareth," she said slowly, "I've thought of my fifth question."

He looked down her intently, but did not speak, waiting for her to make the first move.

"Do you have a dream or um… a wish that I could grant you? Something that I could easily give you?" she asked, looking up at him curiously, her green eyes filled with a gentleness and an innocence that took Jareth's breath away.

For a moment, he could not speak, overcome.

Possibilities flashed through his mind at a thousand miles a minute, each scenario more enticing than the last. Eventually, however, he picked the one that he thought she would most freely give.

"I would dance with you again, Sarah," he said quietly. "We have not danced together in so long."

"A dance?" asked Sarah, incredulous. "That's your big wish? To dance with me? Go wild, Goblin King."

"Yes. It is."

"I…but there's no music!" she protested.

"Perhaps you could sing. You truly do have such a _lovely_ and _tuneful_ voice, as I had the pleasure of discovering on the way here."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered.

There was a pause.

She looked at him. "Seriously?" she asked, quietly. "This is what you want?"

Jareth nodded.

"Well," she said slyly after a moment. "Say your right words."

"I wish," said Jareth solemnly, "that Sarah Williams would dance with me, right now."

And with that, he enfolded Sarah in his arms and they began to dance. Despite the uneven wooden floor of the observation deck not being particularly conducive to waltzing successfully and the only sound being the chirp of the crickets and the breeze blowing the branches of the trees, they danced how two people are meant to dance - with grace, chemistry and passion.

"Sarah," Jareth murmured as he released her finally, when she was out of breath and dizzy with dancing, "you truly are the most remarkable woman I have ever met."

"You told me I was the most difficult woman you had ever met not two hours ago."

"You are both difficult and remarkable. Remarkably difficult, even."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Aww, stop being so _charming_ Jareth. How will I _ever_ keep my hands off you?"

Jareth grinned at her rakishly. "The fact is, Sarah," he said matter-of-factly, "that I'm simply trying to seduce you so that I don't have to sleep in a magically modified bath tub tonight."

Sarah looked up at him. "Oh Jareth," she said breathily, looking into his eyes adoringly. She paused, and the look of affected adoration was replaced by a mischievous grin. In a normal tone, she continued. "You're still sleeping in the bath tub, and you'll be lucky if I don't turn the shower head on while you're sleeping."

Jareth let out an unrestrained peel of genuine laughter, and Sarah wondered idly if she had ever been happier.

The breeze began to get stronger, and Sarah realised she was shivering.

"Come," said Jareth suddenly, noticing her discomfort. "Let us retire for the evening."

The suite was cold when they entered. Sarah realised ruefully that she had forgotten to shut the large window before she had set off to meet Jareth.

Whilst Jareth went off to transform the bath tub into a suitable bed, Sarah began getting changed. She was already tucked up in the too big bed in her pyjama shorts and vest top when Jareth's head popped round the side of the bedroom door.

"Despite the fact that I have easily been able to create a bed," he told her, "it is still rather damp. And the bathroom is cold. _Very_ cold."

He shot her a meaningful look.

Sarah sighed.

" _Fine,"_ she muttered, pretending to be annoyed. "But one snore and your back in the Bath-Bed."

Jareth beamed, thankfully only a little smugly. The bath-bed was in no way damp. He had known that there was not a goblin's chance in hell thathe was going to sleep in that bathroom, coin be damned.

Sarah turned on her side, facing away from Jareth. As the other half of the bed sank down with his weight, she realised he had gotten in. She resisted the urge to turn round to look at him.

"Who would have guessed," she heard him murmur softly beside her, "that five years after your run it would be like this."

Despite herself, she began to laugh. She turned round to face him.

"It is pretty ridiculous."

Jareth looked at her intently, mismatched eyes filled with contentment.

"More ridiculous than a Wiseman with a talking hat?" he asked knowingly. "More than irritable door knockers? More than a chivalrous fox-terrier and his noble sheep-dog steed?"

"Well," said Sarah slowly, with laughter still in her voice. "I guess not. I guess…in the scheme of things…it's not that ridiculous at all."

There was a long, companionable silence.

"Good night, Sarah," murmured Jareth.

"Night," replied Sarah, softly. She grinned at him. "Sweet dreams."

Jareth smiled back, uncharacteristically gently. He clicked his fingers and the lights went out.

 _A/N – We're half way through the game!_

 _ROMANCE…CHEESINESS…ONLY ONE INNUENDO!…I am not built for this. I hope this was acceptable. Do feel free to leave a little contribution in the review box._


	10. Chapter 10 - Take A Hike, Jackass

_A/N Thanks so much, as always, for your inspiring and kind reviews!_

 _An especially big thanks to the guest BT For the suggestion of a Bog 2.0, Coming Soon To A Goblin Kingdom Near You. I hope you enjoy this!_

Chapter 10 – Take A Hike, Jackass

The next day, Sarah and Jareth were on a hike.

"The air is crisper here than in New York," Jareth noted, as he and Sarah strolled along comfortably side by side.

"Yeah," Sarah agreed. "Crisper than in some parts of the Labyrinth too. The smell of the Bog is pretty potent."

They matched pace easily, their booted feet coming firmly down on the leaf strewn ground with a satisfying crunch.

Today, Jareth was wearing a pristine white linen shirt and dark jeans, with rough black boots. Much to his displeasure, Sarah had been unable to stifle a nervous laughing fit when she had first seen him that morning.

"I am struggling to see," he had demanded crossly, "what is so vastly amusing."

"I'm sorry!" she had said, still laughing. "You just look different. I know it's been a while since you've broken out the feather jacket but still…this is so…I don't know. Human, I guess."

Jareth had looked at her stonily, affronted.

"But that doesn't mean I don't like it!" she had said, hastily. She'd paused, taking in the effect fully. The undeniably rather attractive effect. "I mean…you look good," she'd muttered, flushing a little. "It suits you."

Jareth had been appeased. "Well," he had said, smiling slightly. "I felt a little overdressed in the leather around so many mortal tourists." His tone filled with distaste. "Some of them are wearing _kagools_."

"How very dare they," Sarah had replied, amused.

As they were first entering the trail they spied a young, irritatingly chipper couple who had themselves made dubious fashion choices. They both looked at them critically. Jareth was quite clearly a corrupting influence on Sarah's general 'no judging' policy.

"Why do people wear socks with sandals?" asked Sarah in an undertone when the couple had passed them. "I mean, I know I'm not like, Mrs. Fashion Conscious or anything but… do they not have eyes? she muttered wonderingly.

"There is an unaccountable lack of taste within the general public, Sarah," replied Jareth seriously.

Sarah was inclined to agree.

They continued on the trail for a while, until it was becoming rather congested with tourists and families.

Jareth felt Sarah's gaze on him. He turned and looked back at her, noting the familiar spark of adventure lighting up the green depths of her eyes with brewing trepidation.

"Let's break off from the mapped route for a bit," she suggested eagerly.

"Or," suggested Jareth pleasantly, "we could alternatively continue to follow the route and get there before the hour is out. Or I could merely transport is to the top. Which would admittedly be much less time consuming."

Sarah had glared at him. "That would be cheating," she told him sternly.

"And here I've been acting as the soul of honesty for the last eternity," he said sardonically.

"Oh, just shut up. We're going off route. It's more exciting."

"You're on an illegal vacation in a luxury resort with the fairy-tale villain of your misspent youth. I'm so dreadfully _sorry_ that you feel your life is so lacking in excitement."

"Aw, don't get all sulky on me, your Highness. You can pick what we do tonight."

Jareth smiled wolfishly, petulance forgotten.

"Oh good," he said silkily. "I shall have to put on my thinking cap."

Sarah rolled her eyes and stomped off without waiting for Jareth.

He watched her retreating figure for a moment.

"Why," he muttered drily to himself, "could she not have had this same blasé attitude to time management when she was running the bloody Labyrinth ?"

Sighing, he followed her.

Three hours and two-and-a half arguments later, they were there.

"Well, I think this is the top. Rattlesnake Mountain, route 113, we have conquered you!" announced Sarah happily. "See," she said to Jareth smugly. "No-one else is here! Told you it'd be good to go off the mapped route a little bit."

Jareth looked at her, unconvinced. The route was for beginners, more of a steep walk than a hike, and had meant to take around half an hour.

"Don't look at me like that," said Sarah. "You know deep down that the views all the nicer because we don't have to share it with anyone else."

"I told you," said Jareth stubbornly, "that it would have been child's play to merely banish all the other tourists on the mapped route into the care of the goblins. And then we could have gotten there alone _and_ quickly."

He had been undeniably disappointed at her rebuff of his genius plan. He hadn't been villainous in _hours._

Admittedly, the view was stunning. The rocks were craggy and steep, and below them was a lake so blue it looked like a scene from a post card. Sarah sighed contentedly. She turned round in order to force Jareth to voice his appreciation of the stunning vista, and found him balancing precariously on a rock two feet ahead of her.

"Jareth, what the hell!" she shouted after him. "I thought you were behind me. You're far too near the edge!"

Jareth turned his head, laughing at her.

"Sarah, do calm down," he said patiently. "I'm just going to look a little further."

He peered further down the steep expanse, teetering over the edge dangerously.

"Jareth!" she said warningly. "Just stay-"

He fell, plummeting gracefully.

Sarah screamed, the sound echoing in the silence. Her brain was frozen in shock and disbelief.

She ran over to the point where Jareth had been just seconds before and peered over the edge desperately.

"Jareth!" she shouted desperately, numb with panic.

There was a horrible, horrible moment in which Sarah saw and heard nothing.

Then, a white barn owl flew triumphantly toward the sky, circling mockingly round Sarah's head.

She glared up at it, her heart still in her mouth.

After a few smug victory laps, the owl landed with typical Jareth-esque finesse, and metamorphosed fluidly back into her favourite Goblin King.

The aforementioned Goblin King raised an eyebrow at Sarah's furious expression, an amused look upon his handsome features.

"Really, Sarah. As though I would honestly let myself fall. I am wounded by your lack of faith in my abilities." He smirked in a self-satisfied manner and continued. "Though your concern for my well-being is _deeply_ touching, precious thing. Even if it is hugely unnecessary."

Sarah merely looked at him furiously, mouth opening and closing in breathless indignation.

"Hate…" she stuttered out eventually, struggling to regain her breath and heart still beating madly. "I hate…"

"You hate?" enquired Jareth maddeningly, one eyebrow raised.

"I hate…you!" managed Sarah.

She felt a hand on the top of her back as Jareth gently pushed her forward.

"Do breathe some more air Sarah, the lack of oxygen at this high altitude is quite obviously affecting your mental capacity."

After Sarah had shouted at Jareth for a little longer, they went on their way.

The only sound was the pair's rhythmic footfalls on the rocky floor. Sarah was silent, still fuming about Jareth's trickery.

Jareth was seemingly oblivious, humming a happy little tune under his breath.

After a moment, he spoke.

"Sarah," he asked casually, "why do you aspire to be an actress?"

Sarah looked at him, shocked out of her mutinous thoughts.

"That's an odd question," she noted, bemused. "What do you want to know that for?"

Jareth looked at her intently, his gaze oddly calculating. His expression looked incongruous with the determinedly casual tone of voice.

"Curiosity," he said after a moment.

"Curious enough to make it your sixth question?" she asked lightly.

"If that will ensure your honesty, then yes," he replied simply, that odd mismatched gaze still appraising her.

Sarah paused, considering. "Well," she said slowly, "I guess, when I was younger, a big part of it was that my mother is an actress too. You know how girls are with their mothers when they're little. It's natural to want to be like them I guess. And mom was always so glamorous and fun. So I'd always wanted to…I don't know, imitate her in a way, I suppose. And then when she left it almost seemed to keep us together in a way, like I was still following in her footsteps, you know?"

Jareth was unusually quiet, answering. "I understand. But you no longer idolise your mother with the same fervour that you did whilst running the Labyrinth . Why has acting as a profession continued to appeal to you even though it seems to give you so little satisfaction or reward?"

Sarah looked at him from the corner of her eyes curiously. "How do you know I idolised my mother when I ran the Labyrinth ?"

"You just told me," he replied innocently.

When she continued to look at him with interest he sighed and continued.

"I am allowed a glimpse into the lives of those who run the Labyrinth, not much but…a little. Their passions and their…motivations, to an extent."

"Oh." Sarah paused for a moment, pondering this. She stored the piece of information away for closer inspection at a later date.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "I suppose one of the things I've always liked about acting is that you can be anyone you want. It's an escape."

Jareth looked at her sharply. "An escape from what, exactly?" he asked, voice still carefully even. He sounded almost disinterested.

"From reality, I suppose," she said unthinkingly.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Sarah digested the implications behind her own words.

Jareth smiled wryly with a hint of self-satisfaction, as though Sarah had said exactly what he had expected her to.

"Come," he said before she could speak. "If we leave now you'll probably lead us back to the hotel before nightfall."

He strode off, leaving Sarah standing slightly aghast behind him. After a moment, she moved to follow him.

Back at the suite, Sarah was happily relaxing in the quiet of a Jareth free room. There was no bickering, no pouting, and no-one firing insightful questions that made her reconsider her whole life at her. All was quiet.

Jareth had decided to go for a fly around the mountains, claiming it got him a better view than any they could glean on foot. Sarah didn't doubt it. She was happy just reclining on the King-Size bed, and was contemplating taking a nap before she started to dress for dinner.

That was until she heard something crash to the floor in the bathroom.

She froze. And listened.

Sure enough, there was a raucous babbling and the sound of manic laughter.

She sighed deeply, brushing her long dark hair from her face.

Apparently, the goblins were excellent trackers.

She considered simply slipping out of the suite, and perhaps going for a walk. Maybe she would leave Jareth to greet the goblins when he returned. They were _his_ subjects, after all.

Then, however, she heard the sickening sound of something smashing.

"Oops," said a reedy voice from behind the door, guiltily. "Sarah lady is _not_ going to like that."

She marched into the bathroom. An overpowering smell of vanilla, flowers and spice hit her the second she had entered.

"Sarah lady isn't going to like what, exactly?" she enquired dangerously.

The goblins huddled together protectively, clearly attempting to hide something.

"Hi Sarah lady!" said the Goblin With The Tusks cheerfully.

"You look pretty," said Malcolm in a placating sort of voice.

"Nice teeth," agreed Tooth approvingly. "Pointy."

"Appreciated," said Sarah drily, refusing to be mollified. "What are you trying to hide?"

"Nothing," said Tooth innocently.

When Sarah did not look convinced, he instead came up with a cunning plan of distraction.

"AHHHHHHH!" he shouted. "Look over there, lady! Behind you! The Bog Monster!"

When Sarah did not turn round to face the terrifying Bog Monster and merely raised an eyebrow, Tooth looked downcast.

However, he continued to point behind Sarah valiantly, his expression in an affected comical 'O' of terror. At every three second interval he would shout "AHHHHH," and point with a renewed vigour.

When this had continued for around two minutes and Sarah still remained frighteningly impassive, Graham spoke.

"Don't think it's working," he said in a stage whisper.

"Don't know," returned the Goblins With The Curved Horns, "She might be too scared to turn round."

"Has the Bog Monster gone?" wailed The Goblin With The Tusks. He couldn't check himself, as he had leapt into the toilet at the mention of the fearsome creature.

No-one replied.

"Impressive, Tooth," said Sarah eventually. "Though I might suggesting taking up acting lessons." She paused. "You'd probably get more roles than I do," she muttered in an undertone, a little bitterly.

Shaking her head to clear it of a renewed onslaught of doubts regarding her career, she returned to the matter in hand.

"Just move, Tooth. I want to see which bottle of my perfume you've knocked over."

Looking put out that his Bog Monster ploy had, yet again, failed to get him out of trouble, Tooth acquiesced.

Two more goblins took his place.

Sarah had to restrain herself from stomping her foot in frustration.

"Guys!" she wailed, "just move and let me see so I can clean it up!"  
"You know your bottle of smell, lady," began Graham tentatively, as though she had not spoken, his snowy brows furrowed worriedly.

"Yes, Graham," said Sarah wearily. "I know my bottle of smell. Or perfume, to use its technical term."

"Mmm," said Graham, seemingly unwilling to elaborate.

"Well, lady," said Tooth, helpfully picking up the thread of the story. "How would you feel if something had…happened to it?"

"Oh, just move guys! I can smell it already, it's practically gassing me, and I know you've knocked it over." She pouted. "It's just that that if it's the one in the orange bottle it was my favourite," she said, a little downcast.

"Sorry, Sarah lady," chorused the goblins, fairly sincerely.

Just at that moment, Jareth entered the suite, feeling unusually jovial. Upon his return from his flight path around the mountains, he had spied the hotel staff hefting chairs and dinner tables looking harassed, with some even carrying large centerpieces. Upon enquiry, he had learned that there was, in fact, a ball being held that night in honour of the resort's 25th anniversary. Ironically enough, the location was to be the venue apparently known as 'The Crystal Ballroom.' The whole thing really did have too lovely a symmetry about it to ignore.

"Sarah, precious thing," he began cheerfully –

Then stopped dead.

"Why," he asked mutinously, "does this room smell of goblin?" He paused, and smelled again. "And…vanilla and spice, and lilies," he murmured, a strain of bemusement entering his tone. "Sarah, what _is_ that smell? How much of your perfume did you put on today?"

He strode into the bathroom.

Sarah looked up at him, resigned. She was, apparently, alone.

"It's Obsession," she said a little forlornly.

Jareth shot her an injured look.

"I beg to differ," he replied coolly. "I merely noted that the room smelt a little stronger than—"  
Despite herself, she laughed.

"No, I mean the smell. My perfume. It's Obsession by Calvin Klein. We ah…we've had some visitors. The perfume was a casualty. I think they hid when they heard you come in."

Jareth's face darkened.

"Alright, you disgusting little scabs," he said in a bored tone. "Reveal yourselves to me."

They did so.

"Hi King!" exclaimed Tusk cheerfully.

The others had the sense to remain silent.

"What," asked Jareth dangerously, "do you think you are doing here?"

"Ahhhhhh," said Tooth slowly.

"Missed you, King," said Graham.

"No-one to kick us," said a goblin sadly.

"You're short on the weekly bogging quota," added another, a hint of reproach entering its voice.

"That's it," said Jareth furiously, "you're all coming with me."

"But Jareth," Sarah began reasonably, "what if someone sees you with them?"

She never get a response. Because Jareth and his goblins had vanished in a cloud of glitter.

She sighed, and perched on the sink. Vacations involving story book Goblin Kings really were _so_ exhausting. Interesting though.

Meanwhile, Jareth had transported the goblins to the exact spot where he had astonished Sarah with a feat of his avian aerial manoeuvres earlier.

Jareth glared violently at them and began to stalk, catlike in front of them.

The goblins looked back at him warily. They wished they had gulped down a few more Goblin Ales for the road.

"Listen to me, you utter imbeciles," Jareth began in a tone of dangerous calm. "Turn and see the scene before you."

Slowly, with much pushing and bickering and stepping on each other's feet, the goblins did so.

"Now," said Jareth, "what do you see?"

"Clouds," said one goblin immediately.

"Trees," said another proudly.

"A dragon!" exclaimed Tooth excitedly.

In unison, the goblins turned to Tooth.

"Well…not really," he said sadly. "I just wanted to be involved."

The goblins turned back to what they were supposed to be looking at.

"Look," said the goblin who had pointed out the clouds, jabbing a stubby finger skyward excitedly. "That cloud looks like a chicken."

"No it doesn't," said Tooth dismissively. "Looks like a dragon."

"No it doesn't," said another, "it looks like a unicorn," he murmured dreamily.

"No it doesn't," began Graham, "it looks like—"

But Graham never got to voice his opinion on what the cloud actually looked like.

"ENOUGH," roared Jareth, pinching the bridge of his nose in pure frustration. "What you see before you," he began, struggling to keep his voice even, "is a lake."

The goblin who had pointed up at the clouds still had his head raised skyward. "I'm not sure it looks like a lake," he muttered to his friend doubtfully.

Jareth ignored him.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice quietly intense. "If you dare to ruin my trip away with Sarah by turning up again I will create an exact replica of this lake…this lake of… This Lake Of _Eternal Cleanliness_ and have it permanently installed within the kingdom."

"NOOOOOOO!" wailed Tooth, distraught.

"Oh _yes_ ," said Jareth viciously. "And," he continued, inspired, "daily bathing will become a requirement. No—scratch that, _twice_ daily bathing."

There was a general goblin outcry at the announcement of the coming of a new, much more terrifying Bog 2.0.

"HAVE MERCY, SIRE," begged Tooth, launching himself at Jareth's feet and clinging to his Sovereign's ankles in supplication.

"Shut up!" yelled Jareth, "And get _off_ me before you're the first one to test it out." He scooped him up by the ankles and danged him over the lake threateningly.

As the goblins began to wail, Jareth shut his eyes and sighed internally, praying for a god he did not particularly believe in to give him strength. He was just a few short hours from having Sarah in his arms again, dancing the night away in a surprisingly different sort of Crystal Ballroom.

Despite the fact that Sarah seemed to constantly do the opposite of what he wanted - if he planned not to take her to the ball she would probably demand that they attend - he was fairly certain she would not decline the invitation. She would surely still be so relieved to see him alive (and who would have known she would be quite so overprotective of him?) that she would accept unquestioningly. Jareth smiled smugly, remembering her terrified screams when he had dived from the cliff. Before he could get too wrapped up in the satisfying memory of Sarah's look of utter horror when she thought he had plunged to his death, however, he was interrupted.

"Have you asked Sarah lady to be queen yet?" the goblin whom Sarah called, for some bizarre reason, Graham, enquired interestedly.

"No," muttered Jareth sullenly, distracted from his ruminations for a moment. "And I won't get the chance to if you repugnant little morons don't stop harassing me every two minutes."

"It'd be nice for Sarah lady to be Queen," said The Goblin With The Curved Horns thoughtfully, as though Jareth were not there. "She does less kicking than King."

"And bogging," said The Goblin With The White Whiskers.

"Worse singing though," pointed out Graham. "Lady always sings in shower. Not nice on the eardrums."

The goblins collectively shuddered.

"Must like you, King," said Tooth thoughtfully, apparently supremely unbothered by the fact that he was being hung upside down by the ankles. "Wouldn't be on holiday with you otherwise."

"Let us hope so," replied Jareth drily. "She'd have to in order to agree to put up with you lot for an eternity," he continued bitterly in an undertone.

"So…" said the Goblin With The Curved Horns slowly, his brows furrowed in intense concentration, "you don't want us to come and tell you about our day again?"

"You are actually moderately astute for a festering little scab," replied Jareth pleasantly.

"So…that's a no?" he continued, just to be sure.

"I take it back," Jareth muttered tiredly. "You're all as thick as planks of rotten wood."

Jareth sighed. His head was beginning to hurt. He dropped Tooth on the floor unceremoniously, who fell with an undignified squak.

"Leave me now," he said tiredly. "Go back, and don't dare come again. Or there _will_ be consequences."

"Okay, King," said a goblin cheerfully.

"Sounds like one of the false alarms," noted another.

"Bye King!" they chorused happily.

"See you soon!" called one.

There was a crack, and they were gone.

Jareth turned and massaged his temples, exhausted. He was just working himself up to transporting himself back to the suite when he saw a small, chubby boy gazing at the spot the goblins had just been, his jaw slack and mouth wide open.

Jareth smiled at him benignly.

"Good Evening," he said to the boy coolly.

When the child did not respond, Jareth advanced, unconsciously regal.

"A word of advice," he continued in a friendly tone, "I wouldn't bother mentioning what you've just seen to your mummy or daddy. If you go spouting out nonsense the goblins might _just_ decide to take you with them next time. And I'd consider shutting my mouth in the literal sense too if I were you. If the wind changes you'll stay like that."

Jareth laughed uproariously, amused at his own joke.

"Well," he said, looking at the boy imperiously. " _Laugh_."

When the child still didn't close his mouth or move, seemingly paralysed with shock, Jareth sighed. He made a complicated gesture with his hand and a clear, shining crystal became a remote control car.

"Here," he muttered to the boy, exasperated. "It was a crystal, nothing more, but now it's a remote control car. Take it and don't dare tell anyone what you saw or I'll reorder time until I ensure that you've never been born."  
The boy shut his mouth. "Thanks man!" he exclaimed delightedly, snatching the shiny black car complete with remote from the Goblin King's hands.

He ran off with it, shouting happily. "Mom! Mom! Look what I found on the ground at the top of the mountain!"

Jareth smiled smugly. Being Goblin King for centuries really had given him _such_ a way with children.

He stretched, and yawned languidly. Time to get back to Sarah. Never let it be said that he was not generous.

A/N – The resort that this place is loosely based on genuinely does have a venue called 'The Crystal Ballroom.' You can actually hire it out if you've got the money. I imagine that you'd have to pay extra to get Jareth to put in an appearance wearing a sequinned jacket and eye makeup, however. The goblins would probably come for free and wear masks if you provided an Open Bar and snacks.

I hope you enjoyed this! Reviews are immensely appreciated, as ever.


	11. Chapter 11 - Ballroom Prancing

**A/N** _– I'm sorry this chapter is coming a little later than usual, I've just been super busy preparing for my very own (hopefully goblin free!) vacation._

 _Labyrinthlover30 – thank you SO much for your links and the wonderful dress ideas! Both dresses were stunning. I found myself staring at them in awe for ages, but found that when it came to writing it I just didn't have the talent to describe them well enough to do them justice. I'm not sure if you write (if not you should…the review you gave was better thought out than this entire story) you should definitely include them, reading your review was a pleasure._

 **Chapter 11 - Ballroom Prancing**

"Jareth, no. Who the hell even _goes_ to balls anymore? Hard as it might be for you to believe, we're actually not living in the 1800s."

Jareth looked sulkily at her, glaring up at her from under his eyelashes. "So you are saying that you refuse to attend?"

"Yes," replied Sarah immediately.

"Don't take _too_ long to think about it, will you, Sarah dear," muttered Jareth drily.

"Sorry, Jareth, not my thing. I've had enough of Crystal Ballrooms of both the literal and figurative variety to last me a lifetime."

Jareth raised his eyebrows and smirked at her complacently.

"Well," he said lazily, "given your aversion to attending tonight's festivities it truly _is_ a shame that you promised _I_ could choose what we did tonight."

"I didn't promise," she said hastily.

"No?" asked Jareth innocently.

"No," said Sarah firmly.

Jareth smiled at her beatifically, leaning forward unnervingly until their foreheads were practically touching.

"Well then," he breathed silkily, his hot breath caressing her cheek, "I shall simply have to convince you."

Sarah suppressed a shudder, feeling uncomfortable at his sudden proximity.

In typical Sarah fashion, she decided to follow the age old 'offence is the best defence' adage.

"Well, why do you even want to go?" she exploded. "I can't believe the resort is even hosting one. Who the hell is going to have packed a ball gown with their hiking gear? I damn well haven't."

Jareth looked at her patiently. "It has apparently been rather well publicised. According to the receptionist, many of the guests have travelled here especially."

"And we just _happened_ upon it," said Sarah mutinously. "Lucky, luckyme."

"Indeed," said Jareth calmly.

"And…and why do you want to go, anyway?" she demanded.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said stretching lazily, "it will be something to while away the long autumnal hours, will it not?"

Sarah glared at him.

"If you're bored, you're welcome to pop back and spend the evening with the goblins," she suggested stiffly.

Jareth smirked at her obvious annoyance, but said nothing.

"No, actually why though," said Sarah, irritated. "I want to know. It's my sixth question. Why can't we go check out the sauna or something instead? Why do you want to go to this ball so badly?"

"I don't care for the steam," said Jareth smoothly.

Sarah glared at him, waiting.

"Oh, now why the murderous look?" asked Jareth, one eyebrow raised in mock innocence. "I answered your question. I don't want to go to the sauna instead of the ball because it's overbearingly hot and I don't like the steam. A full and honest answer, as adhering to the rules of the game."

"The _other_ bit of the question," said Sarah through gritted teeth.

"Well, that was two. You asked two questions. I answered one. The first one you posed to me, in fact. Perfectly fair."

"I was never that… _pedantic_ with any of your questions!" exclaimed Sarah, outraged. "That's not fair!"

Jareth took in her livid expression along with the familiar words and burst out laughing.

"Oh, shut up," muttered Sarah, as his rich laughter filled the room. "You goaded me into saying that."

"You should word your questions better, dearest," said Jareth, still smiling slightly. "You never did think before you spoke."

She rolled her eyes in his direction.

"Whatever, anyway," she said grimly. "I still don't have a dress for a fancy ball so I'm not going."

"I do believe I can be of service there," said Jareth helpfully.

"Oh _wonderful_ ," muttered Sarah sarcastically. "What a surprise. So generous. Only when it suits you, naturally."

Jareth smiled at her benevolently, ignoring the barb.

He produced a crystal, twirling it thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinising Sarah unashamedly.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, embarrassed.

After a few more moments, Jareth nodded to himself, producing a crystal with a gesture as quick as lightning. He twisted the sphere with an almost careless flick of the wrist.

A gown as black as night and twice as beautiful fell to the floor.

"Go and try it on, why don't you?" suggested Jareth casually.

Grumbling, she picked up the dress and stomped off ungraciously into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she allowed herself to inspect the dress properly.

It really was stunning. The dress was long and silky, and diamantes were scattered prettily towards the bottom of the gown, a spattering of stars on an otherwise empty midnight sky.

She put it on, surprised at how well it fit. She resisted the urge to twirl.

She located her makeup bag on the marble counter and set to work. She added a subtle line of kohl to her lower lash line, noting how it made her eyes look even more disarmingly green. She put on a little light pink lipstick and pinned her hair up simply, leaving a few strands to fall guilelessly about her face, a deliberate contrast to the elaborateness of the dress.

She inspected the results happily. She turned her head this way and that, amused and amazed in equal parts in the knowledge that the elegant vision in black reflected back at her was herself. She had to admit, she scrubbed up well.

She attempted to school her features into the grumpiest expression humanly possible. She threw open the bathroom door without ceremony.

"Well, I've got it on. You did a good job. It's quite nice, I guess."

"You look…" started Jareth, and then stopped, seemingly unable to find words.

At the look in his eyes, a pink flush spread across Sarah's face and she looked away from him, staring at the floor.

"Not like you to be speechless," she said in a determinedly indifferent tone, but was secretly inordinately pleased.

She ruined her resolutely disinterested aura slightly by lifting the long skirt admiringly, noting how the diamantes sparkled becomingly in the light. Despite herself she couldn't resist stroking the skirt reverently. It was soft to the touch.

Jareth looked her up and down judiciously, seemingly recovered. "Yes, very nice. I think you'll do," he decided regally.

"Charming," she muttered.

She raised one long leg, and a bare foot peeked out from under the long black folds.

"I'm shoeless," she said pointedly.

"You truly are never satisfied," said Jareth drily.

"Look, Goblin King, it's you that's so desperate to indulge in some ballroom prancing. So how about turning a crystal into some Louboutins for me?"

"I do not know what a Louboutin is," said Jareth, "but I can certainly provide some shoes. Now, what are your right words?"

"Hm," said Sarah ironically, "What could they be? They're not, ' _I wish, I wish, I wish the goblin king would give me some designer shoes'_ are they?" she asked mischievously.

"' _Please_ , _Jareth'_ would have done," he muttered. Nevertheless, he produced a crystal from nowhere, made a complicated gesture, and a pair of shiny black high heels fell to the floor with a clank.

Sarah picked them up admiringly. Who needed designer when you had Goblin King Couture?

"Jareth, you know when we were talking about career changes earlier? I think you should give up your title and consider starting up your own label. Get a nice little boutique over in L.A. Charge outrageous prices. It'd do great."

Jareth ignored her ruminations on his possible future career plan.

"One more thing, just for continuity purposes." Jareth repeated the gesture with yet another crystal.

A diamond ring appeared in the palm of his hand.

He cupped it, and drew out his hand for Sarah's inspection.

Sarah eyed it warily. The stone was beautifully cut, full of clear fire and almost obscenely huge. A part of her mused quietly that it was not the sort of ring she would have expected Jareth to pick. Despite its overt flashiness, it was undeniably exquisite.

There was a loaded silence.

"I'm not wearing it," she said reluctantly.

Jareth smirked, amused at the hesitancy in her tone.

"Say it like you mean it, precious thing."

"I'm not!" she said, more firmly this time.

"You don't like it?"

"I do. Obviously. I mean, it's gorgeous. But uh, plenty of married people don't wear rings. And I don't think anyone is going to be inspecting our backstory that thoroughly. Generally people lie about not being married rather than the opposite."

Jareth raised his eyebrows.

"What exactly are you so frightened of? It's a ring, not a thumbscrew. Think of it merely as an accessory."

Sarah looked at him, noting the familiar stubborn glint in the crystalline depths of his eyes.

She sighed.

"You're not going to let this one go, are you?"

Jareth said nothing.

"Fine," she muttered. She went to take the ring from Jareth's palm.

Just as she moved to do so, Jareth closed his palm, hiding the ring from view.

Sarah glared at him and Jareth smiled radiantly.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said serenely. "Not so fast. Allow me."

"You are _so_ annoying," she said, but the slight laugh that entered her voice betrayed her.

She allowed Jareth to take the ring and gently slide it onto the fourth finger of her left hand without any further complaint.

For a whole five seconds.

"Oh sure," said Sarah teasingly, once the offending article was wedged firmly on her ring finger. "You can make a diamond wedding ring worthy of Tiffany's but you can't make me a Mercedes Benz."

Jareth resolutely ignored her, and refrained with difficutly from making a comment about her ungratefulness.

"Excellent," he said, as though she had not spoken. "Now that is settled, I had better attend to myself."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, hand on hip, pretending to survey him critically.

"Yeah, what are you going to wear? You'll have to look smart. I'm looking pretty fancy thanks to your crystal wielding passion for fashion."

Jareth flicked his wrist elegantly, and the jeans and black shirt were replaced in an instant.

"Oh," said Sarah, in an embarrassingly husky voice.

"I," he said smugly, "am going to wear this. What do you think?" he asked, smiling roguishly.

Sarah cleared her throat.

"I think," she replied slowly, "that you look like you just came out of a photoshoot for GQ."  
Jareth raised an eyebrow and cocked his head questioningly, clearly non-plussed.

"I mean that you look good," she elaborated. "You do look, um… smart."

That was an understatement. The tuxedo was black, tight and well fitted. The bow tie was left currently left carelessly undone. Long, elegant fingers set about tying it absent-mindedly. Sarah watched, transfixed. He looked so beautiful it practically hurt.

"Am I ready, then?" he enquired, his wide, self-satisfied smile belaying any note of faux humility in his question.

"You'll do," said Sarah repeated sardonically. "The Goblin King _shall_ go the ball!" She frowned suddenly, considering. "Though, to be fair, you did just materialise a dress from thin air for me. And shoes. And a ring. So I guess if we're referencing _Cinderella_ here that technically makes you _my_ fairy godmother."

She snorted suddenly at the mental image of Jareth prancing around with a magic wand shouting "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!"

"You _have_ been lacking on the pumpkin carriage front though," she continued thoughtfully. "Maybe you could use a peach. And turn two goblins into footmen, instead of mice. That's more our style."

"You know," said Jareth, "I have not the faintest clue what you are talking about. Though, if you are referencing the Grimm tale, I would surely be the handsome prince, no?"  
"Prince Charming? Not on your life," scoffed Sarah.

" _King_ Charming, then?"

"King…not very charming at all."

"You wound me with your razor-sharp wit, precious thing."

"See? This is exactly what I mean. Cinderella wouldn't have been spoken to like that," said Sarah loftily. "Prince Charming was not sarcastic. He was the strong, _silent_ type. You're just not fairy-tale hero material Jareth, face it."

Jareth looked at her reproachfully. "You truly are immensely unappreciative of me. And, as I remember, Cinderella was very meek and unassuming." "And," he added pointedly, "was exceedingly pleased to be offered an escape from her wicked step-mother and grating step siblings."

Sarah grinned, unconcerned, and began to put her shoes on. Despite his affected hurt, as she struggled to balance, Jareth automatically proffered his arm.

"One day, Jareth," said Sarah, taking it and leaning on him for support, "we're going to have a Disney movie marathon."  
"Sounds positively delightful," he replied evenly.

Sarah looked at him, and even after close inspection couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. She shook her head, deciding it didn't really matter anyway, in the long run.

"Right," she said firmly. "Let's go, if we're going."

They set off, arm in arm.

The ballroom positively _gleamed._ Practically everything was white, barring the baroque golden pillars which held up the domed ceiling. The room was open and light with windows lining the walls, proudly displaying panoramic views of the snow-capped mountains. A spectacular crystal chandelier was suspended from the ceiling, lending the guests an almost silvery glow. A small orchestra was set up unobtrusively at the opposite end of the room, and music filled the huge venue. White lilies and crimson roses had been arranged decoratively in every available space. The cloying sweetness of the lilies mixed with the musk of perfume on the other guests made Sarah feel a little lightheaded. She moved closer to Jareth unconsciously.

The revellers themselves were elegant and beautifully dressed. Laughter chimed like bells and champagne flowed freely. Sarah was hit with an almost alarming wave of deja-vu.

She was glad the dress Jareth had made for her was so stunning. Grandeur did not feel quite so silly when one was surrounded by it. She was, admittedly, a little cowed.

"This is…fancy," she said after a moment.

"What did you expect?" asked Jareth, looking supremely unruffled, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not sure. I don't exactly go to these things often." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "No masks," she commented lightly.

"Not this time. And do try to not smash anything up, won't you dear? Those chairs look antique."

"No promises," she muttered grimly.

Jareth laughed.

"I can't take you anywhere," he muttered.

At that moment, the orchestra began a waltz.

"Shall we?" enquired Jareth, offering his hand.

Sarah looked around. There were certainly plenty of other couples dancing. They would hardly attract too much attention. And as much as she was unwilling to admit it, dancing with Jareth was sort of…fun.

"Okay then," she said gracelessly.

Jareth smirked, thankfully only a little smugly.

He gathered her into his arms easily and they began to dance. As the waltz moved into a faster, more exuberant beat Sarah found she was actually enjoying herself immensely. They danced well together, in sync to one another's movements as only people with inexplicable chemistry are. As Jareth twirled Sarah round unexpectedly, almost wrong footing her, she began to laugh, looking up at the domed ceiling as she threw her head back. Painted cherubs frolicking in the cloud strewn heavens smiled down at them benevolently. Sarah turned her gaze back to Jareth's face and they danced on. Sarah thought fleetingly between steps that she had never seen him look as completely unguarded, nor quite as free.

As Jareth spun her again with practiced ease Sarah suddenly did a double take. Next to the violinists foot, in the edge of the orchestra pit practically submerged by shadow, was a goblin. A very _small_ goblin, but a goblin nonetheless. As she quickly scanned the rest of the pit, she spotted at least two more of them skittering about. The orchestra played on, oblivious. Quite incredible really, as the smallest was jumping up and down, trying to gnaw on an unfortunate violinists bow but mercifully unable to quite reach. Another was just spinning aimlessly to the music, arms stretched out, seemingly having a wonderful time.

When Jareth brought her back to face him, she smiled briefly before turning again, craning her neck to get a better look.

"What is it?" Jareth enquired interestedly, still leading her through the dance adroitly. "What are you looking at?"

Sarah turned back to him, quickly taking in the contented glint in his eyes, the complete lack of stress or annoyance in his handsome features. His face was absent of all its usual tension, less taut, his stance open and relaxed. She had always thought he held an almost ageless beauty, and yet tonight he looked…younger. He looked happy.

She swallowed her revelation.

"Nothing," she said firmly. "I uh, I thought I saw something. But it was nothing."

She just hoped the goblins wouldn't try to go to the bar in hopes being served a Goblin Ale. The waiting staff at these sort of functions were just not paid enough to be deserving of such a horror.

Jareth tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. He opened his mouth to speak.

She stopped mid-dance, but kept hold of his right hand, leading him away from the centre of the dancefloor.

"I'm going to find the bathroom," she said hastily, before Jareth could press her for any further details. "Be back in a minute." She grinned at him. "Give you a chance to catch your breath, Goblin King."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel, exquisite black heels clacking on the parquet flooring with satisfying panache.

As she stood in front of the bathroom mirrors, taking in her rather flushed cheeks and flyaway hair, she felt someone's eyes on her.

"Wow, I just _adore_ your dress," said a pretty redhead of about thirty, her tightly curled hair forming a fiery halo around her head.

"Oh," said Sarah smiling slightly, "thanks."

"It's stunning. What label is it?"

"It's um…it's bespoke."

"Ah, custom made," she said regretfully. "Should have known! You lucky thing."

Sarah smiled a little sheepishly, unsure what to say next.

The woman smiled back, unabashed, her cherry red lips widening in a dazzlingly white smile. She turned back to the mirror, and began fiddling with her springy curls.

"You and your husband are excellent dancers," she said lightly. "My partner and I noticed you earlier."

"Oh, he isn't—"began Sarah unthinkingly. Then stopped. She caught sight of the exquisite ring, glinting mesmerizingly in the soft lighting. "Um, thanks. But he's a good lead. I've got two left feet."

The woman laughed. "Now, now, I don't believe you for a second. You dance like a natural! I work in theatre, so I'd know!"

Sarah's eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh. Well - thank you. What do you do in theatre? - if I'm not being too nosy, that is."

"I'm a theatre director in Manhattan."

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, and then abruptly shut it again.

The woman smiled at her, turning away from the mirror finally.

"I'd better get back. It was nice to meet you anyway, um?"

"Sarah."

"Sarah. I'm Mona."

"Same to you."

Mona winked. "Have a wonderful evening. Keep dancing!"

Sarah watched her go. "You too," she mumbled, too late for her to hear.

She sighed, running a hand through her dark hair and freed another tendril from its iron butterfly clasp in the process.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why hadn't she asked if she knew of any work available? A _theatre director_. In _New York_. Asked her for a business card, a number, even her full goddamn name? Tried to network?! Sarah was simultaneously shocked and frustrated with herself. Was it that she just didn't _care_ enough anymore? _Having too much fun pretending you're on a never ending holiday with your fake husband,_ a voice whispered inside her head nastily.

Sarah bit her lip. She could give herself this week, this vacation. _And then_ , said the irrepressible voice inside her head, _you need to get a grip_. This break, and then…reality. Or her goblin inclusive version of it, at least. Sighing, she smoothed her hands down the smooth black silk, trying to calm herself.

She needed some air.

Leaving the bathroom, she swerved left on impulse, making for the balcony she and Jareth had danced on the previous night. Jareth would find her eventually, and pop up in that strangely unoppressive way he always did.

She reached the deck and breathed in the cool evening air gratefully, tilting her head up to the sky and letting the strong breeze whip the loose tendrils of her hair round her face. Her dress fluttered delicately in the wind.

Feeling decidedly princess-like, Sarah walked exceedingly carefully over to the wooden railing (for 6-inch heels and a ball gown were not particularly conducive to walking successfully on a planked deck) and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the rail. She gazed upward at the moon. The stars shone down benignly, and Sarah irresistibly stole another glance at her ring, twisting her hand and admiring how the diamond shone brilliantly in the pale moonlight.

A little while later, Jareth approached her silently, and she felt rather than heard his presence beside her.

She did not turn round.

Jareth looked up in the same direction she was, and did not speak.

"I wish I could see what you do in the night sky," he said quietly after a moment. "Such a simple pleasure."

She gave him a sidelong look.

"You calling me simple?" she asked lightly.

Jareth shot her a half smile, one eyebrow quirked slightly.

"No," he said. "I don't think I could ever describe you as easily pleased."

There was no malice behind the words and Sarah let out a short bark of laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet of the autumn night.

"Sorry," she said, still smiling. "I know I've been out here looking for ages. I didn't mean to abandon you. I just got a little warm inside. You can go back in, if you like. Are you bored?"

"No," he replied honestly.

"Good," she said softly. "I just…I never get sick of looking at them, at the stars. I don't know why. Do you have something like that? No matter how much you see it, you just don't get tired of it."

"I never become tired of looking at you," Jareth said absently. He stilled suddenly, his body tense, as if surprised by his own candour.

After a pause, Sarah turned to face him, an odd look in her moss green eyes.

Jareth watched her intently, waiting.

She stepped closer to him, calmly, measuredly. She tilted her head and leaned upwards. After considering him for a moment, she kissed him, lightly and fully on the mouth, gentle as a summer breeze, hands resting on his shoulders.

Jareth remained frozen, still as stone.

After a moment, she stepped away awkwardly, blushing furiously.

"I-"she muttered uncomfortably, "I'm –"

The sentence she had started died in her throat. Jareth closed the distance between them in one easy stride and grasped her face in his two gloveless hands, pressing his mouth down on hers hard. Where her kiss had been light, his was slow, coaxing and sensual.

She responded to him unthinkingly.

After several long moments, or minutes, Sarah wasn't sure, he broke away, still with his gloveless hands woven in her dark shining hair.

"It was pleasantly refreshing," he murmured hoarsely, "to not have to challenge you for it."

"Well," breathed Sarah, heart beating wildly, "maybe you should be nice more often."

Jareth opened his mouth to speak. He never got the chance to.

Behind them, a twig snapped. A bush rustled, too loudly to be an effect of the light breeze.

Sarah whirled round, breaking the embrace. She looked for the source of the noise, squinting against the darkness of the autumn night.

Then, she saw that a dense bush directly opposite them appeared to have multiple pairs of large, alarmingly unhuman eyes.

"Oh!" she exclaimed unthinkingly.

The eyes blinked. Several goblins fell out of the foliage, startled from their hiding place.

"Did he say it?" one asked tentatively, rubbing his head.

"Say what?" asked another, dazed by the fall.

"His right words, of course!" exclaimed another impatiently.

"What're his right words?"

"His right words," said the first goblin as though it should be obvious, "are 'Sarah Lady, I wish you would come and be Qu-"

"COME HERE," roared Jareth.

"Oops," said a goblin.

"Think he heard us."

"Maybe if we stay really still," offered another, "he'll think we're decorations."

"You are all far too ugly to be called decorative," called Jareth coldly. "Now come here."

"Jareth," said Sarah pleadingly, "we've had such a nice evening, let's not do anything, um… tyrannical."

"I warned them," said Jareth through gritted teeth. "That if they came again, there would be consequences. _Serious_ consequences. Like bogging, or torture."

"Maybe you could give them a second chance?" she asked hopefully.

When Jareth didn't reply, his mouth set in a grim line, she continued.

"Come on," she said hooking an arm through Jareth's. You owe me at _least_ one more dance after being an ass about my question earlier. Let's go back in."

"But _Sarah_ -"Jareth protested plaintively.

"Let's go," she said firmly.

Jareth sighed, but made no further complaint when Sarah forcefully pulled him away, back towards the ballroom and into another dance.

The goblins looked at each other gleefully.

"KING AND SARAH LADY, SITTING IN THE FIREY'S TREE," serenaded Tooth happily to the empty balcony. "K-I-S-…," Tooth paused, pea-sized brain whirring furiously. In spelling he had met his match. "What comes after the S?" he asked the goblin next to him in a whisper.

"It's U-N-G," said the goblin confidently.

"Thanks!" said Tooth gratefully. He returned to belting out his song. "K-I-S-U-N-G, FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES THE CROWN, THEN COMES THE PARTY IN THE GOBLIN TOWN!"

The goblins clapped appreciatively.

"Will you do the next verses?" a goblin asked meekly.

Tooth shrugged his tiny shoulders. "Why not?" he said modestly.

He did so. All fifty-six of them.

No-one in the rooms on the ground floor got very much sleep that night.

Wonder why?


End file.
